I'm BAAACCKKKK

Not that I was gone for long, mind you. Three days were almost enough.
Except it was more like two days, thanks to an unfortunate airline cancellation. I spend a frustrating Saturday in the airport, accompanied by a very understanding and patient boyfriend.
Returning to Michigan was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. It was detox for the mind. I felt all the stress and anxiety and negativity that had collected in my brain over the past months just float away and I felt so clean. The weather was perfect, the stars were perfect, the crickets were perfect, the company was perfect. I left my parents' house actually looking forward to returning to the city.
My welcome back consisted of crises at work thanks to my own oversight, and then my boyfriend informed me that he is considering applying to a job that would take him far, far away from me (were he to actually apply, get an offer and actually accept, which are huge IF's). I spent yesterday fully immersed in the heap anxiety I left to escape. Ah well. Perhaps I should take up Buddhism?

Ick. It's really 9 Days later? I'm ashamed.
I'm going back to MI this weekend to visit the family, and I'm deleriously happy about it. On these smoggy, dirty summer days I long for the cool green of my parent's backyard. I look forward to grilling veggies outdoors. It will be a joyous occasion to swim.
I fear I took these things for granted three years ago, when I was feeling sorry for myself for having to be cooped up in my hometown indefinately. It's still a fairly rotten place in so many ways, but there are bright spots. Mainly, they are my family, but there's also the coffee shop and the library, the little pub and the Theater downtown. There's not much of a social scene, but hey, it's small town USA, and everyone there is either coupled up or ready to get the hell out.

The other day I strolled by the offices of *****, NYC... my first place of employment in NYC. I was so proud of myself when I landed that job 3 years ago in August(3 month trial period, $12/hr., untaxed and uninsured, with potential for full-time employment thereafter). I was certain it was my foot-in-the door into the Production World, where I'd learn to produce and ultimately be given more and more responsibilities, much like G***, the only full-time employee to have lasted for 3 years.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
The man who ran the place, I'm convinced, rose straight from the bowels of hell and opened his own production company only to torment poor producers, freelancers, and office PA's. Poor guy, he wanted to be good, but he was evil by nature. He yelled at me for the computer's breakdowns, he yelled at me for being too polite on the phone, he yelled at me for asking if he wanted to take a call and he yelled at me for not asking. He yelled at me for asking him to clarify a request, or for asking him to repeat himself because I couldn't hear him the first time. I eventually learned not to ask, only to guess. Only problem was, sometimes I guessed wrong and I was yelled at, yet again. I saw him crush the spirit of an eager young producer in under a week. That young man went from So Happy to Have the Job to therapy in less than a month. He went through three producers in the three months I was there. He badmouthed his best friend. He badmouthed his friend that worked his ass off for him and then was horribly injured in a terrible accident.
There was no long-term employment for me. I was out of there by November.
Despite all this madness, I am grateful I had that job because without it I probably wouldn't be here in New York. I wouldn't have had any other work and I was at the end of my funds by the time it came around. I also learned a thing or two about people. I also met my friend Raoul, the bartender at the bar next door, who I was visiting the other day before I decided to walk past the production house of horrors.
So when I went by there last Friday, I saw him. The old boss. He saw me, too, and maybe he even recognized me. We did not acknowledge each other. But I held my head up and grinned, hoping he noticed that I am still here, and I'm doing just fine.

The Latest




I painted Frog last night and this morning. See what happens when I have nothing else to do?
What I really mean is, see what happens when I start feeling detached from the natural world? I start making pictures of animals and nature. I feel so unnatural living in this giant concrete and brick structure surrounded by other concrete and brick structures. I have no porch to sit on and enjoy the night air during the evenings, and I can't take long walks in the park at night without fearing for my life. Bitch, moan, complain, I know, I have it good, but I can't help but feel a little physically trapped by my surroundings. If you only knew how vast and expansive the urban New York is, you may understand that while I love the convenience of being able to walk everywhere, I have sacrificed the convenience of easy mobility, clean air, and physical space (and I'm not just referring to a small apartment). Of course, in Michigan, I complained about the inconvenience of having to drive to get to anything that I needed, and that drove me crazy. Yet I know it's possible to have a little of both worlds. I just need to find out how and where. In the meantime, I suppose there will be more nature-art. That's never a bad thing.

Art

I loved college. I learned so much, I expanded my worldview, I had a great time. But college art classes somehow convinced me that I needed to create artwork that either meant something profound or that featured a unique or creative "style." Now that none of that matters in my secluded real world, I've rediscovered the joy of creating for the sake of creating... of drawing pictures of whatever I damn well feel like and painting maybe something that means, well, little to nothing. Maybe I just want to draw parrots because I like them:

The Ice-Cream Man
Sometimes I think the ice-cream man is selling drugs out of the truck. Why else would he be out at 11:00 at night? Yet, I've actually seen young kids out that late, buying ice-cream, so I suppose there's a legitimate demand.

In other news: went rafting on the 4th. It was fun.

I am a big fan of this guy I think that much of what he has to say about language and the cognitive differences between liberal and conservative ideology is spot on.

Blogger-versary!

Today is my 1-year "blogger-versary." I wrote and published my first post 1 year ago. I've written an average of 5 posts/month, with 11 being the highest and 3 being the lowest. In this new blog year, I resolve to post more than 5x per month, even if it means posting one-liners and links, although that's kinda cheating in a way.

Anyway, happy 4th to all tomorrow!

My Three Years

So tomorrow I will have been living in NYC for three whole years. Wow. One year ago today, I was on the road with my mom, in fully-packed car I still "owned" back then (or rather, a car I was paying off at a rate of $50/month.) I was heading toward a neighborhood I'd never seen, to live with people I'd never met, toward a future that was blank and uncertain and therefore thrilling. My, how things change so quickly!
Because I'm still here for a while yet, I'm not going to look backwards at everything that happened to me in the past three years. I'll save that for my exit. Instead, I'll recount how the hell I got here in the first place:
I didn't know what I was going to do with my life, but I knew that I needed to get the hell out of Michigan. It's not because Michigan was all that bad, but I was longing to try somewhere new. I'd grown up in MI, I'd gone to school there, and after months abroad in Europe the place seemed hopelessly dull and predictable.
When I returned from Europe, I had nowhere to go but my parents' house. I had virtually no money (less than a thousand dollars) and no job prospects. I was stuck in my frigid little hometown and coming off a six-month travel high. Travel withdrawal lasts ages and leaves one miserable.
While trying to find a "real job" that never materialized, I secured another part-time position as a kitchen slave laborer in a local chain restaurant and at night I tried out for the local community theater. The play was my saving grace, and my fellow actors became my temporary companions, as actors often are. One of these actors was a young woman named Pam, then 27, who had recently moved back to Michigan from New York City. She'd been shaken by the events of 9-11 and a bad employment situation and had returned to MI for a while to do some work at a company in nearby Rochester. She was sub-leasing her place in NYC to another girl, and fully intended to return soon.
A few months later, I decided to move out of the parents' house by July no matter what and all I had to do was find a location. I was leaning toward Detroit, but in the back of my mind I was also considering New York because of all the wonderful stories Pam told me about her whole glorious year-and-a-half in the Big City. NYC seemed like a great challenge as well as an opportunity to figure out what to do with my life, since there were so many people and so many jobs. Besides, it was exciting! Young, hip people! Art! Culture! Possibility!
I'm sure you can guess what happened next: I get a phone call from Pam. Pam says she is not returning to the city, or not yet anyway, and the subleasor is leaving. She needs a trusted soul to take over the place in June. Would I be interested?
It took me probably 30 minutes to make a decision, although I told everyone I'd take the night to think it over. At that time I was working a temporary second job as an assistant to a well-meaning but inexperienced indie producer in Plymouth, and that job was slated to end late June. After that, I had nothing more than a small savings and a firm resolution to get out of the house by July 1st. This was my chance. And, of course, if I didn't say "yes" I'd wonder about it for the rest of my life. So although it frightened my parents and alarmed my friends, I opted to go.
Now, here I am, three years later, still hanging in there. I have a job, a bigger savings, grad school on the horizon, a boyfriend, and a life. I've had an over-full three years with a fair share of heartbreaks and amazing experiences (traveling the campaign trail comes to mind, among other stories). Hopefully I'll have a few less eventful years before I make my escape.