I started blogging in 2005 as a way to deal with my post-college depression. I had a lot of hair back then.
I share funny stories and life lessons all written in the same down-to-earth, tell-it-like-it-is fashion that makes me my mom’s favorite blogger.
I have had some tough clients. People who want to move the logo over one pixel, just to discover that browsers render elements differently so even though it’s perfect in Safari, it is not just so in Firefox.
I am well versed in the frustrations of cross-browser design, and spend many hours a week cursing Internet Explorer’s very existence. But that frustration does not compare to how frustrating it is for me to design for me. I am my own toughest client. Continue Reading
I’ve made a number of $500 mistakes in my life. One time, I let a guy convince me that he would pay for my airfare to come see him.
The most recent one involved trusting a company to be honest and upstanding when it came to paying the commissions I was due. It became a long-standing argument which I have mentioned before. I am bewildered why they would think that someone would want to continue working for them when they hadn’t gotten paid in six or so months, and why they were so offended when I would bring it up again and again. Of all the labors of love in the world, did they really think that slinging high-end barbecues was one of mine? Continue Reading
BIG NEWS!
Please celebrate with me the launch of my new communications and design company, Artsy Geek. Websites, branding, social media and more.
When?
Now! Or, two weeks ago. You pick.
Continue Reading
I wrote when I was a younger person about my two Three Hundred Dollar Mistakes.
Since then, I have made a number of other Three Hundred Dollar Mistakes, due mainly to my dutifully trusting instincts. Every time I make one, at least I get to laugh about adding it to the Three Hundred Dollar Mistakes list (sort of the opposite of a Bucket List, eh?). Continue Reading
Last weekend I found myself eating at Jake’s of Saratoga, a pizza joint that obviously welcomes families and soccer teams, and, according to their website, is a “Saratoga landmark”. I pocketed their menu, because I found it hilarious that they would feature a creepy man statue on the front.
When I mentioned this to my compatriots, they filled me in. This creepy man statue is Jake himself, and he used to be featured prominently at the Saratoga location, but has since moved to one of the other Jakes in the area. A traveling creepy man statue! What interesting marketing.
How one chooses to market oneself or their business is often a matter of personal taste, and I understand the thoughts behind this choice: Creepy Jake Statue lives at our restaurant, people love him and identify him with the restaurant–why not?? I can understand that. I know that just because I find Jake’s statue creepy (and would expect small children to as well!) doesn’t make my opinion right. Continue Reading
Last night I went to the best party I have ever been to. It was an open house thrown by the local, organic catering company Devoted Catering by Aimee Alan.
I hired Devoted for an event I coordinated for the Berkeley Student Cooperative last year. The food was excellent. I remember when I was first talking to them being concerned about running out of food. The event coordinator I was working with, Zoe, said, “We have never run out of food.” I was heartened. I have since been to another event that they catered which also had excellent food. When I got the invite for their open house, I responded with a “Hell yes!” and RSVPed for two right away. Next year I will RSVP for more!
I knew that last night was going to be special when we were greeted by a red carpet stretching the length of the sidewalk and speckled with rose petals. ROSE PETALS! Faint red lights lit up the gorgeous space. I felt like I was walking into a ball. Continue Reading
Yesterday was a bummer of a day for a laundry list of reasons that I’d rather not get into.
I was brought up with the beliefs that one has power over their own mind: when you’re in the depths of despair the shining sun is a curse on the world, when you’re happy as a clam, no amount of rain could pull your spirits down. That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but the ethos is basically, when you’re bummed, try to feel better. If you’re stuck in thoughts that make you feel bad, stretch your mind to find a thought that feels better–even very marginally. Once you get even that millimeter closer to a better feeling thought, you’ll have access to even better feeling thoughts.
My philosophy and cognitive science education proved to strengthen my beliefs in the power of thought. In particular, Heidegger’s philosophy of the mind rings true and supports this. He points out that if you’re thirsty, everywhere you look you will see the possibility of quenching your thirst. Or, if you’re tired and on a long hike, a boulder that otherwise would have blended into the background jumps out at you as a place to finally rest.
I noticed last night that I was stuck in a place where everything looked like failure. I’ve been spinning my wheels on a few projects, and it’s lasted far longer than I ever would have expected or hoped. When it came time to do the dishes and then take off for my evening activity, I knew that I needed something to lift my spirits. The song I chose to facilitate this was “Fill Your Heart” by David Bowie.
He sings, “Fill your heart with love today…things that happened in the past only happened in your mind. Forget your mind and you’ll be free…Lovers never lose because they are free of thoughts unpure and unkind…”
The mind is a powerful organ, one capable of ruminating about failures and embarrassments ad infinitum. I like this notion that if you fill your heart with love (try it! It feels great) you almost are out of room for the brains obsessive ponderings. The feeling left instead makes room for forgiveness of ones self and others, and celebration of your own power.
It also helps that the song is pretty cheery.
I spent this past weekend in Reno, NV, celebrating my friend Heather’s birthday. We had a grand time, as one does in Reno. I tweeted Sunday morning “‘The beer I had for breakfast, wasn’t bad so I had one more for dessert.'” It was a true depiction of my situation as it might be yours, this victorious Tuesday morning (Go Giants!).
This tweet came up on my weekly phone call with my aunts and mother last night. Neither of my aunts or my mother caught that I was quoting song lyrics. My belief that it’s clever to tweet/FB lyrics without attribution is perhaps misguided and disrespectful to the artist.
It is a lyric from the Kris Kristoffersen song, Sunday Morning Coming Down. Until I Googled it, I would have assumed it was written by Johnny Cash, who introduced the song–in its glorious wisdom–to me.
It’s the tale of the morning after a night of adventure…the nostalgia, the regret and the basic human urges.
Without further ado…Johnny Cash performing Sunday Morning Coming Down, my favorite Sunday morning hangover song.*
*Will, the bf, and I just had a conversation about whether to admit to hangover on the Internet. I said to him, “Babe, we just bought www.lushesinlove.com! We should embrace the hangover with two fists!” To which he replied, “It’s true that the Sunday morning hangover is generally acceptable.” Conversation over.
I looove karaoke ever since I learned I couldn’t sing at the age of 12 or so. Karaoke was the one place where I could be proud to show off my singing skills. My musically inclined boyfriend is baffled by my eager embarrassment, but I’ve long since embraced it as part of my nature.
I’ve participated in a number of karaoke contests, which I’ve written about. They take place at the Shattuck Downlow in Berkeley and have over the years become overrun with people who can actually sing. Bummer.
I always come in pretty close to last. I’ve always blamed the judges, which might not be fair, but I thought they just didn’t really understand my humor. (It couldn’t be that they just didn’t appreciate my out of tune vocals!)
This year I decided I would really really give it my best shot, as I’ve written about here. I took voice lessons. I learned to breathe, and that I wasn’t tone deaf! Awesomeness.
I picked my song months ago and practiced, practiced, practiced. I ordered the CD of the karaoke track online and perfected the timing and a cute little zombie dance to go with. Even my musical boyfriend said I was doing okay. My voice teacher said I was awesome. The stars were aligning for my success.
I was so pumped when I got an email from Steve, the Karoake Jockey, informing us that ALL THREE JUDGES WERE GOING TO BE NEW. What could stop me now??
The day arrived. I got all dressed up and ready to go. I went. I met a new friend, who needed a costume. I happened to have all the make up needed for zombification in my bag. I offered, he accepted.
It was dark in the bar. I followed the same exact recipe that I had used on my face. It came out a few minutes later that I had given him black face. Black face! Not at all what I meant to do!! I apologized profusely, but he was visibly irritated.
Moments later I was informed that he was a judge! Minutes before the contest started and I managed to offend a third of its governing body!! My heart sank.
I said so to my friends and noticed that the bar was loud that I had to shout for them to hear me. My voice was hoarse!!
Now I had offended 1/3 of the judges, and my voice was hoarse!! And I was nervous!! This night was not going well. I sipped on my gin and tonic.
I had hours to wait. I had picked a competitive slot–11:30. In the past, successful contestants have performed pretty late–when the crowd is drunk and ready for dancing. I was competitive this year, but I wish I hadn’t picked such a late time slot. I was nervous, I couldn’t talk to my friends for fear of further taxing my poor vocal chords and I wanted another gin and tonic.
What felt like months later, it was time. I bounded up to the stage, ready, willing. I was going to take this thing down in flames!!
I missed my first cue. That’s okay, keep going. I was singing, I was singing, and then it hit me. All my training had gone out the door. I wasn’t breathing. I wasn’t even singing!! I was shouting into the microphone like I normally do.
So, well, I didn’t do very well. But I do know how to sing now, perhaps just not on stage at the Shattuck Downlow. And I’ve learned some good lessons for next year’s Scaryoake performance.
Without further ado, my performance:
