Got Milk

My golly, a new job is hard. It's been a long time since I've had a new job and I forgot about the whole changing EVERYTHING part: new tasks, new procedures, new commute, new places to eat your lunch, etc. etc. Even though I only work three days a week, it's felt like a FULL TIME JOB. A lot of what I was used to getting at my old job, I don't get at my new job, which is changing how I interact with the world.

Things I like about my new job include flexible schedule, a view of the East River and all its majesty, the incredible trees, a gym with yoga classes available, the medical benefits of my dreams, free admission to the Museum of Modern Art with my i.d.. and OH SO MUCH MORE. To avoid the sucky subway commute, and to get more exercise, I've been getting off the subway on my first stop in Manhattan and walking the hour north to my job. As long as it isn't too hot, I LOVE IT. I get a gorgeous view of the East River and the SO COOL United Nations building that I've only seen in a Hitchcock movie. I walk next to the very steps Cary Grant climbed up.

Walking in New York is to engage in a serious love affair with this city. I feel like lately I've been falling in love with it again and I think it's mostly in part to no longer working in MIDTOWN (a.k.a the Mall that Rockefeller built), and not riding the subway as much. Recent discoveries include the Martha Graham Dance Studio, where Martha Graham not only taught, but MADONNA trained at. HELLO! Also, the famous sweet shop Serendipity that I've seen in more movies than I can count. It's one the few things in New York that looks exactly like it does in the movies--there are LOTS of little girls in pretty clothes swarming the place.

In any case, the walks are also giving me a necessary decompressing time. Starting a new job, getting married, and launching some other career things (nothing I am willing to quite share here just yet) is A LOT. It's ALL GOOD, but all at the same time? I described it to a friend like having nothing but chocolate cake to eat all the time. I mean, delicious right, but GOT MILK?

Today I am in one of my favorite offices--the cafe down the street, drinking an iced creamcicle (1/2 soy milk, 1/2 orange juice). SO YUMMY. It ain't milk, but it will have to do.

The Man's Birthday

Today is my man GRAHAM'S BIRTHDAY! HOORAY FOR GRAHAM!

He has to work today so we celebrated this weekend in grand style--photography exhibits, picnic in Central Park, movie about photography, and stuffed shrimp at a fabulous Spanish restaurant in Chelsea for dinner! To keep the party rolling, I made him a chocolate cake last night that is awaiting the pouncing of two chocolate loving fanatics. I debated whether or not to give it to him for breakfast, but we needed to have SOME party to come home to this evening.

I hate the word fiance. It doesn't roll off the tongue (it sounds too much like a sporting event) and whenever I try to use the word, I feel like I should be wearing a pink angora sweater set and my name should be MUFFIN and it should be 1950. I call Graham my husband-to-be or my groom. I've actually already called him my husband a few times to avoid using the 'F' word. I also like to call him THE MAN or MY MAN. I may not work for him, but I think Graham is THE MAN. I am so glad he was born.

Happy Birthday, Graham.

Going Out- Crafty, Rough, Cheap, But Ours

Oh man, Too Much going on

I've had migraines, no e-mail (if you're awaiting a reply from me--HANG IN THERE!), and a list of things to do that includes no small items, including, planning a wedding, finishing up the wedding invites (hense the pictures above), starting a new job (halleluja it's raining BENEFITS!), and just trying to get some, I don't know, stuff that dreams are made of DONE. Hey, people, in case you didn't know this already: the dream factory is HIGH MAINTENANCE.

Sorry if it's light around here this week--I am flying by the seat of my pants!

xoxox
Summer

The Artist is Out of This Office

Good-byes are lousy. Some people do well with them (meaning they don't care) and some people don't do well with them (meaning they do). Here are examples of good-byes I utterly loath:

Once, when I was dropped off in a cab by a man I had been getting to know all night (in the platonic sense), and who I seemed to have enjoyed a connection with, said to me: "Summer, good luck to you."

Another time, a woman I had sort of built a light friendship with stopped in to say good-bye to me before she moved somewhere. She hugged me and said, with warm affection in her voice, "Have a nice life."

Both are such a kind way to kiss off, but a kiss of is a kiss off. I LOATH these kind of good-byes. I don't believe in them. I guess I am the kind of person who is not so good at good-byes. Why make it so ICE COLD?

Today is my last day at a job, which is always a strange time. People share secrets with you. Affection is more likely. You may eat exceptionally better than you normally do. Tonight, I have my final so-long party. There are some people I will see again, and some people who I could say, "Have a nice life" to or "Good luck to you", but I won't. I've decided to say it in my OWN way.

Two floors, two bathrooms, ten tips of the hat.

What would my last day at this office be without some last minute guerilla art? It seemed only right.

Today's Lunch

Thanks to my department for my lovely over-the-top meal at Mr. K's!

Let the Good-Bye Lunches Begin

Erika at lunch today. This isn't good-bye, only see you on your off-time.

So, here's a little secret: I start a new job on Monday. A sudden opportunity arose, I went for it, and I got it. I'll be working less hours, getting paid more, I can wear what I want, and here's the real deal: I'll have benefits. I've been working with the promise of benefits for the last 6 months, but never actually getting them. As some of you might have guess, I love where I have been working--all in all I've been working here for a year and a half--but there comes a time when an opportunity to REALLY take care of my needs is just dumb not to take.

I am so curious to see how I can continue my work-art experiments in this new and different environment. In my interview, my new boss literally said to me, "You could even bring your writing here. If your work is done, I don't care what you do with your time here. Writing is fine." I neglected to ask if it was okay if I did whiteboard blog entries and photo shoots involving everybody's shoes, but I figured it was something I would sooner or later do anyway. I think he was trying to say to me, "I know what you are and that's okay with me." I should have said something like, "Good, because sooner or later you would have found out anyway. "

So my usual 3 day working week this week is being filled with good-bye lunches, and thanks-a-lot dinners, and you-go-girl drinks. This is the best part about leaving some place. People take you out to feed you and tell you how much they like you. The bad part is the actual leaving. I will miss so many people. I will miss the breakfast every day (yes, they served us breakfast every single day!). I will miss most of all the blank canvas I found here. I will turn to the blank canvas of my new digs. Oh, the possibility....

Trying It Out

Last night, I came home in a rattled mood. Lately, my life has been at FULL TILT with very little breathing room and being the SENSITIVE ARTY TYPE that I am, I was bound to SNAP at some point. No matter how BAD I feel, it's always good for met to sit at the desk and play a little and experiment.

As some of you know I do a series of one page stories that I started last August, as a way to try to do something arty every day. I don't do them every day nowadays, although I still do make them. I've been trying to collect them into a book of sorts--they are meant to stand well on their own, but as a group I have discovered that they tell a larger story. I recently tried to get them published as a book--no luck as of yet--oh sad me, and it was intimated that my work gets to be, shall we say, TOO MUCH visually. Since these little stories--or fliers, as I call them--are one drafts only--they are written in a rush and can tend to be CRAMMED around the drawing and inside the frame. So I GET IT how they can seem too much, and I had already been thinking of ways to improve them, without somehow losing "the tone" they create.

When I'm feeling discouraged or unsure of myself, the best answer is always more art--especially "risky" art, like trying on new ways of doing something. So last night I decided to try the new idea around the fliers out, by separating the drawing from the words. I cut up a bunch of copies that I have, and pasted them up in my journal. I added more to the pictures and re-wrote the story in a clear, clean way. I'm not sure about it yet, but I think I like it. It's not necessarily "better"--but it's got its own tone to it. Either way, I felt so much better by the time I went to bed, which was all I needed. I needed some hope before I went to sleep, and I got it.

And What if You a Read a Blog and Knew This is Who was Writing it:

This is Who We Really Are

One of the art projects/experiments that I've been trying to do at work is to collect pictures of my co-workers as small kids. I believe that if everyone knew what everyone looked like as a small child it would profoundly affect the way we interact. Most of us are coming from a little kid place anyway--especially during conflict. How would we change the way we interact with our co-workers if we saw them as small children. What if you looked at your boss and saw this:

If you were angry that someone lost a report or did something annoying or even spilled coffee:

What if you had observed someone having a bad day and was grumpy or they said something rude to you how would you react if you looked over and saw not how they look today, but this:

What if you said good morning to the man who runs the mail room, and this is who you saw:

And you knew that he saw you like this:

Because this is who we really are on some level--beyond the titles and the things we own. We started like this and somewhere this little person continues to exist, as we go out into the world and make plans or do nothing. What if we had to wear this image around our necks as a reminder? What would change? Who would you see and who would everybody see when they looked at you?

The Underbelly of Manhattan

Our friend Richard (a.k.a. Rico) came to visit us this weekend. For some reason I have seen my friends MORE since moving to New York than I did when I actually lived in the same 100 mile radius as them. If any of you out there are bemoaning not seeing your friends and family, I suggest you move to New York City or one of the boroughs. You will be SHOCKED by how many people come to visit. If you already live in New York and don't see your friends, I can assure you that your friends are sitting in a room uptown or downtown from you, bemoaning that they never see their friends either.

But I digress...Rico came to see us and we got to do exciting things like walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and eat amazing Italian food in the Village. I think we adequately gave Rico the feeling (like we do with all our visitors) that walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and eating amazing Italian food is the norm for us now that we live in New York. New York is always fabulous! Fabulous all the time! That's US! We had just about SNOWED Rico into thinking that New York was not only the BEST place on Earth, but the ONLY place, until we went to go see a movie.

Movies are not usually the priority of tourists in New York--and that's a good thing. If tourists knew how HIGH MAINTENANCE it was to go see a movie in Manhattan, they would think twice about visiting our fine city. When Graham and I were a bit AGGRESSIVE about getting to the theater a full half hour before the movie started, Rico said, "But we have plenty of time--it doesn't start for a half an hour." To which we responded by saying, "Oh, we may be TOO LATE." We were. The 4:15 showing of Knocked Up was sold out. We had to wait until 5:00. When we came back a full half hour before the showing, explaining that New York has this GREAT new addition to the movie experience--advertising and programming while you wait for the movie to start--Rico said, "Oh, I know all about that. The big theater in Santa Cruz has all that." We entered the nearly full theater, forgoing the Milkduds because the lines were too long, Rico sat down in the face of blaring advertising at ear piercing volume and said, "My god, this is worse than I thought." This was followed by the theater growing dark so that we could watch MORE advertisements. Rico shook his head, eyes and mouth agape, "They just played THREE commercials."

Dang, we almost had him!

Yesterday morning, when we knew he was safely on a plane, Graham and I drank coffee in bed and listened to NPR. That's about as good as it gets in this town. That's about as good as it gets anywhere.