Discombobulation Station

No Need For Sleep Now...

I'm in New York! How did this happen? An email through linkedin. Oh hai yes I am freelance here's my reel. (Weird, that company is in NY). Oh hai you want my resume? Where is my resume. No one asks for that, they just ask where I worked last. Oh hai resume you haven't been touched since OCTOBER. La dee da, fixing resume, drinking wine, SEND. Next day, hai are you available right now? Hrmm, well I have a loose hold next week do you want me to keep you updated on it? HOLD WHAT HOLD WE WANT TO BOOK! HOW ABOUT THAT! BOOK BOOK BOOK YOU!

You wha?

So after a few more emails, a Skype session, some negotiations, a one-way fare booked on my miles, a trip to Luggage Warehouse to get a bigger bag, I found myself on a plane. My friend Susie insisted I stay in her place while her and her fiance travel the midwest, and then continue on as their houseguest when they get back. I could find no reason not to go. Apart from my lazy nature, mild anxiety disorder, and homebody tendencies. Oh and the boyfriend, the dog and two cats. But they were all encouraging.

So I got here, got to see Susie and her betrothed for the one night before their departure, and then somehow got myself from Red Hook, Brooklyn to Grand Central station the next morning. By myself. I had only taken the NYC subway by myself once before, and it was under careful consultation with A and only a few stops. I was on my own for sure, with no one around to even give me a final pat on the back. Eeep!

I had known the office I was going to was near the Chrysler Building, so I was trying to keep a sly eye out for it (without craning my neck too much like a tourist). I didn't let on how excited I was to be getting off the subway at Bryant Park (the stuff of Project Runway contestant's dreams) or walking down 42nd Street (I was a dancer in the musical in my all-girl's Catholic high school, and I still don't know which part of 42nd the show refers to). My tights, being old and underused as I wear jeans every day in Chicago, were starting to betray me and take a walk closer to my knees. I had to stop for replacements before I got into the office to meet these people. In a way it was good to have a real life distraction as I made my way there. H&M - not open until 10am. Banana Republic - no tights (WTF?). Ahh I know. I need a Duane Reade, which I pronounce in my head Dooo-aun Read-ey. (A. loves this about me.) I found some tights, asked to use the restroom, and felt like a new woman. Went into the office, met everyone and started to get settled in for work.

It was only two days later that I was able to see that the Duane Reade was in the base of the Chrysler Building. I basically was almost naked in the very building I was looking for.

New York is just full of these Felicity-type epiphany moments. I'm looking forward to more.

E

p.s. gift for you -

Statuary garden in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn

New Week

Oh my gawd I have to work a full week of work this week?

Weekend was good. Now that I truly know what that means. I went out for happy hour with motoboy and my workmates, and we actually got picked up by our friends in the burbs (adventurous! coming downtown!) and I think the rest of them all went out later with motoboy's English friend etc. I'll get the scoop tomorrow.

Saturday we spent sanding and polishing Honda cb550 parts. My bike, which I probably saw two times put together in his frigid garage, is now in his living room - in bits. He's sortof, *between decorators* at the moment, so he bought a bit of rug from home depot and the bike got parked in there. And we polished, and I cleaned, and I even used a power tool I was not accustomed to. But let no one say I'm not trying to learn!

And the biggest news in this department is that I got my motorcycle permit license on Friday. I went with motoboy's motofriend's g-friend and she beat me by ten minutes. Which somehow meant I was 45 minutes behind her. I think the guy who had our class of numbers got on the phone for a half hour, and until I asked what was up no one was taking my E-series. But I finally got up there, and you know...I would have got 100% correct if I wasn't so dazed from people and number watching for a half hour. You try it here! But I only got one wrong because I misread "passenger" for "rider" so I know the book well, which I am now instructed by my motorcycling friends to forget. Which I will have done by April or May or whenever all this crusty snow melts.

I feel though that I am being adulterous in a way to my scooter. I would really love to just get another scooter. Although my biking friends insist that if  love scootering, and I can drive stick (which I can, even on the other side of the road, which Danny can attest to), then I will be a natural at motorcycling and I will never want to see my scooter again. Really? Is that really the right approach?

Because, if you know me, you know I love my scooter. Its a fact that every time I get on my scooter and set out for my adventure, I practially say to myself, "I love my goddam scooter." No, not practically, literally. I say it every time. I have a feeling every time I get on my motorcycle I'm going to say, "I hope I don't fucking kill myself." Those are two very different things. And I've warned motoboy that this might happen. And I might just forgo the single person motorcycling thing. And he's going to have to love me either which way.

So this week I have to work 5 days. Which is great since I'm on a day-rate, really. I haven't done this yet because of A and her baby shower and her demanding-ness and all. (Ha ha. Love you A. We had a good time.)  But also I have a 2+ hour interview at another agency on Tuesday and I am wicked nervous for some reason. Who interviews for two hours? What do they want to hear? Shall I talk about my new motorcycle? I don't know how this works anymore.

But I am very glad for the opportunity. Who am I kidding its only ad people who probably just want to know if I watch the same tv shows as them. I watch a lot of tee-vee, despite motoboy's protestations: "Why don't these people just kill themselves?" says he. And I say, "what did we talk about when I'm watching my shows?" Is there anything more postmodern than the current era reality show? I'm just being modern and hip, no?

Wish me luck.

xo

E.

I [Heart] Knitters

So I got a strange call on Monday morning. I was up at ten am, surfing the net "looking for work" (a futile daily ritual), IM-ing with A and reading blogs. A woman I used to work for called randomly, asking my availability for another work colleague who had moved to LA and needed a Chicago producer. I said sure, I was available, she didn't know much about the job except that it wasn't a TV shoot and it just involved a lot of organizing. Still, sounded like something I could do.

So when the agency called back later and said they would need me to organize a knitting art installation, I was totally game. I love advertising because you never know what you're going to get. Although the project kept changing on a daily basis, basically I just immersed myself in the world of knitting. And it was fascinating.

For a day and a half or so, I was looking for someone in town who could mass produce some knit objects - cozies or wide swatches of knit material in order to get started on the project immediately. I had three days to prep for this. As I learned, there are almost no knitting machines left in Chicago available for any sort of mass project. All that stuff moved to China. This I know by talking to a very nice gentleman who was truly concerned about my project and even took my number in case he came up with an idea. There are home crafters with knitting machines, but they are hard to reach (even though I emailed both guilds in Illinois). I left messages at the fashion departments of both Columbia college and SAIC. Eventually I had to give up on this part because I had to find 20-30 knitters to come downtown at short notice and knit all day. I emailed every yahoo knitting group, as well as the largest knitting group in the city, and went to their meeting, trudging through the snowstorm on Tuesday night to encounter a group of about ten (very nice, very welcoming) people. I was getting nervous, but knowing that the word only really went out on Tuesday morning, I gave it until Wednesday evening before I just emailed everyone I knew in Chicago that might know someone who knits.

The other part of my project was finding and buying all the yarn. I needed two colors in particular (this was, after all, a corporate promotion at the end of the day) and I bought Jo Ann fabrics out in both shades. At such short notice I didn't have any other choice, and after Jo Ann's and considering my tight schedule, I had to hit a few boutique type shops. But I called ahead, which taught me something. Do you know what kind of person it is really hard to get a straight answer out of? A knitter. I called a few places so I could plan a busy day of shopping:

Me: Hi, I'm looking to buy bulk amounts of yarn in bight orange and bright green. Would you have large amounts of those colors?
Them: Why? What are you making?
Me: Well, I'm sponsoring a knit-a-thon of sorts, I just need a LOT of yarn.
Them: Well, do you have a pattern? What size needles are you using?
Me: No, listen, we're just knitting everything in sight. I just need to know if you have large amounts of those colors or not, before I come in.
Them: Worsted?
Me: [Silence. I have no idea what this means.] I have no idea. I'm not a knitter. I just bought a cartful in variety of yarns at Jo Ann, and I need to buy about the same amount.
Them: I have some orange, but not so much bright green.
Me: Great, thanks.

So the stores were a bit of a challenge, but I have found a new love: the knitter. Some of these gals were so excited about the project, and didn't really even expect to be paid. They offered to bring yarn, and varieties of needles, and signed up for shifts starting at 6am. I had a hard time getting to sleep the night before, thinking about waking up at 4am and taking the train in the dark downtown. It was freezing Thursday morning, and being pitch black didn't help. But I had a knitter waiting! Then soon two more showed up. And that was it. Until almost 9am. I was only nervous because the marketing girls stopped in and they had arranged for a camera crew to come at 11, which wasn't ideal considering we were doing something as time consuming as, well, KNITTING. But we looked pretty good by then, and after 10am I had a good crew rocking away, and by 3pm it was a full on knitting party. Not one of the knitters wanted to sit alone, they all sat in a circle in a sort of lounge that we created. And they talked, and knitted, and talked. Knitters can chat. After the big business of the day was done, I sat down among them and picked up a set of needles. "What are you doing, I thought you didn't know how to knit?" one asked. Well, I was going to learn wasn't I? I'm not one to pass up a learning opportunity like this.

One of my favorite respondents sat down next to me and within ten minutes I was knitting away. She was a farmer, and former writer, IT specialist, and death metal lover. We had a blast, just knitting and chatting, and then I got it. She boasted that I was truly knitting, not even the way she taught me, I was doing English or something. Something gets released in the repetitive movement, and the satisfaction of seeing your work multiply. I could sit there all day, as many did.

When we finally wrapped up, I realized that two of the ladies had voluntarily overstayed their shift and worked for - wait for it - TWELVE hours. As long as I did that day. So they walked off with a nice bundle of holiday cash. Many of the knitters had recently been laid off, so there was a lot of commiserating about that. I met so many wonderful, interesting people, but the one thing they all seemed to have in common was a serene yet opinionated take on the world. Must be all the endorphins that supposedly gets released in moving the fingertips.

So after we wrapped up, I met motoboy and his motobuddy out at an art institute bar, and downed two pints of Guinness within forty-five minutes, and even though I was exhausted we went to the other guy's girlfriends work establishment and then I ate everything in sight (I didn't eat all day at the installation, don't ask me why) then I insisted on a taxi home. Felt like production work again - work your ass off, get drunk, taxi home. I'm ready to go back to work.

You can check out some of the knitting here.

Happy holidays to all, keep warm and be nice to your families.

xo

E.

I'm Real Buzy, See

The freelance life keeps on keepin on. Its a terrible time for job searchin', as we all know. But maybe is an ok market for freelancers, because work has to be done, and well, someone has to do it. I know a lot of you who would like to quit your jobs, and I feel for you. Oh yes, when I finally opened my eyes this morning, after some approximation of an homage to my vampire book type dream, I did feel for all of you who have been slaving away for the past three hours already. So I had tea and cookies and went to see if you have emailed me. You didn't! But A. was online, glad to see me because she was bored. I can has entertain!

But I did a little more work on this, and lined up another meeting at an agency. I had one yesterday too! And a luncheon at an audio studio, and a lovely evening out with some old colleagues and some very generous vendors. How much food can one order at a winebar? A lot, apparently. But the wine went too quick for my tastes.

The weekends, when motoboy is free, are chock-a-block. We are beginning another round of travels, to Virginia and Cleveland and Florida, oh my! I'll certainly stock up on cheap cigarettes somewhere in there.

Also, I managed to do the summer-to-fall bin exchange in my closet. Motoboy keeps thinking I am wearing new boots, but new relationships are fun because he doesn't even know of my fall/winter collection. I am like a new woman to him every day. I am still on my scooter, however, making the quick trip to T.J.'s today to stock up on wine and TP. I had to take the back routes home, however, as the TP was strapped to the back of the bike. A little bit TMI I imagine. How much does that girl go to the bathroom, passing cars might wonder.

I read an entire screenplay at the coffeeshop too. And now am getting back to work on my little (hopeful) book of short stories about the ald country. Or my debaucherous years there in my early twenties. Am still trying to think of a clever title. Suggestions are welcome.

E.

Drungen Blogin Toosday

Ha ha I exaggurate. Kinda. As you may have been able to tell, work is kicking me wee (?) irish arse and I'm not used to that nor do I like it. I'm over not bloggin about work because I can tell you this much: it sucks. There are moments, when I am hanging out with the creatives, who are great, and we share a common feeling of being torn between two worlds: let's do something really great and yet know its going to be squashed by management or accounts or financial issues or more. I've been very vocal about my sarcy take on the whole thing, which seems to be receptive. I work with account managers who like to dictate emails they have sent before, like to ask questions like, "why are we bringing this up now" and a whole lotta CYA that I know exists but have never experienced in this load up until this point. Gloomy gloomy stress bomb everywhere.

It's not the job really. I could really enjoy the job, as per its description, to quite a degree. Its the people. And the longer I am there the more I realize that no one has really been there more than a year. I'm all for new starts and all but...WTF? Tonight one of the new hires, who I actually like because she's interesting and helpful and funny and ummm actually has a personality, broke down in tears. Not something I have succumbed to yet, only because I can set my exit day for two weeks from tomorrow at any point, but I just felt so bad. Because she has a kid and she was obviously under a different understanding of how things work and how people would respect her and from what I gather she is being punished for being...too helpful. I don't know how to tell her the only way I keep it in perspective is to keep in mind its a good paying temp job to me while I look for something else.

I'm after applying for two moderately more interesting jobs tonight. Who knows? But I know one thing - in the long run, this is NOT it.

In other news, aged birthday is approaching and my girls are making a good effort to celebrate at least 2-5 times in my honor beginning Wednesday. Motoboy is in Sturgis and promises phone sex even though we both admitted we don't know how that works and are not sure we wouldn't just dissolve into giggles. (A., any advice?). But he's back on Sunday to take me to a housewarming party on (my) damn Harley which I miss terribly. The Honda is getting me around fine but not as fast as I've been accostomed to lately.

And last night roommie and I actually heeded the 5-6 tornado warnings interrupting the Project Runway marathon when it was finally accompanied by sirens, which I have never heard from this apartment (or ever?) so we went downstairs to the basement and were shortly joined by downstairs neighbors. We were peeking out the plastic shielded basement window and I felt like we were in the 40's London Blitz: crazy sky, crazy sounds, and then the odd jogger (i.e. crazed war era victim) running by at Laverne & Shirley level vantage. It was all very exciting.

And that, is my German white wine soaked update to you. Fuck the man yo. Oh wait I have to meet with him at 8am. Dear god.

xo

E.

Changes Underway...

So I don't want to say to much about work since that's not what we do here. Plus, its kinda risky. But I can say that it is a 360 degree change from where I came from (or wait am I supposed to say 180?). I was used to being an hour and a half "late" every day (only secretaries had to get in at 8.30!). There are 8.15 am meetings three days a week. I will not be able to take vacation until December (just in time for the holidays!). I went to my old job today to pick up my seven years of junk. And one of the creatives came stumbling through drunk because he had been drinking in the sun all day. My coworker related a story about an email sent threatening an account guy he'd had to suck 7 dicks if he did something again. Those days are over. But I'm not sure I should miss that stuff.

I'm trying to keep in mind that I am being recognized for the skills and responsibility I am capable of. That the work will be rewarding and will put me in a better position for future employment. The hard part isn't the way this company is set up (although they are very buttoned up to say the least) but in my own shift of attitude. I had been so lackadaisical, so spent, so frustrated by my own inertia that its hard for me to gear up and be a true professional. Which these people that hired me assume that I am!

But at the end of the day I'm me. And any of you across the globe would probably describe me in the same way knowing me in different situations and different times of my life. So sooner or later they will figure that out and either love it or hate it. So I'm giving it a shot.

Thank GOD for girl's weekend starting tomorrow night with slumber party at my house. Traverse City, lock up your mens! Oh wait I'm not trawling for men. Lock up your wineries! No wait don't do that either. Just PREPARE. For the awesomeness. Katherine I can't wait to see you - you are my sanctuary.

E.