Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Business.
This afternoon I had exactly $1.83 in my checking account when I received my first freelance writing check in the mail. I immediately rushed off to the bank and deposited it, smiling the whole drive. It is an amazing feeling to earn money completely by yourself, separate from "the man." I wanted to frame the check and hang it on my wall as a reminder. For the first time in my life, I'm paying for bills through MY OWN BUSINESS. CEO, creator, marketing director, and accountant rolled into one. The sweetness of bucking the corporate hierarchy of oppression feels oh so victorious. Rent will be paid this month through the earnings of my business.
Yesterday, a friend had invited me to a happy hour at someone's house, and picturing a happy hour with cocktails inside a house, I dressed up for the occasion. I had on high heels, fishnet stockings, and a short skirt, not understanding that the happy hour was at a working farm on the outskirts of the city. I felt like the quintessential city woman trekking through mud and green fields in high heels when the farmer led us on a full tour. Mosquitoes and darkness descending on us, we sat around a bonfire drinking beer and eating food. I hate mosquitoes and I was absolutely miserable in the fishnets and skirt, but I'm glad I experienced the farm. I realized how disconnected most people are from farms, from the food we buy at the grocery store. There are so many children who come of age not knowing what broccoli looks like in the ground or how it is grown. A travesty. The vegetables are harvested and then sold to local restaurants and stores like Whole Foods. They also sell free-range chicken and pork directly to families. We got a chance to see their enormous hogs and chicken.
Today, I slept until 1 in the afternoon and we carved pumpkins. It was about 75 degrees. I watched my housemate and her friend do the dirty work- I have a fear of sharp knives, you know. They took out the spaghetti-like insides and I harvested the seeds. Roasting them in the oven and adding salt makes for the perfect late night autumn snack. The seeds are soaking in a bowl of cold water near the sink right now.
Yesterday, a friend had invited me to a happy hour at someone's house, and picturing a happy hour with cocktails inside a house, I dressed up for the occasion. I had on high heels, fishnet stockings, and a short skirt, not understanding that the happy hour was at a working farm on the outskirts of the city. I felt like the quintessential city woman trekking through mud and green fields in high heels when the farmer led us on a full tour. Mosquitoes and darkness descending on us, we sat around a bonfire drinking beer and eating food. I hate mosquitoes and I was absolutely miserable in the fishnets and skirt, but I'm glad I experienced the farm. I realized how disconnected most people are from farms, from the food we buy at the grocery store. There are so many children who come of age not knowing what broccoli looks like in the ground or how it is grown. A travesty. The vegetables are harvested and then sold to local restaurants and stores like Whole Foods. They also sell free-range chicken and pork directly to families. We got a chance to see their enormous hogs and chicken.
Today, I slept until 1 in the afternoon and we carved pumpkins. It was about 75 degrees. I watched my housemate and her friend do the dirty work- I have a fear of sharp knives, you know. They took out the spaghetti-like insides and I harvested the seeds. Roasting them in the oven and adding salt makes for the perfect late night autumn snack. The seeds are soaking in a bowl of cold water near the sink right now.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Why Men Love Bitches.
The release of Why Men Love Bitches has me thinking more about this observation and wondering: Is the same to be said for women who love women? The book obviously invites some controversy. The author writes that she is not advocating that women become more abrasive to appeal to men, rather that women learn how to stand their ground and not become a doormat in relationships.
She found the women men most desire are independent, pursue their own goals and dreams separate from a man, and do not expect him to rescue them. Men like a woman who does not place him at the center of everything in her life. Who doesn't appreciate a woman like that? And how does embodying these characteristics make a woman "a bitch"?
Personally I don't have the energy to read yet another book that tells me that I need to change myself in order to snag a relationship or that there is something lacking in me because I've had relationships that haven't panned out. I think you should simply be who you are and the right person will want to have you in their life. Not all men and women love bitches. That women in our culture are feeling pressured to place on the bitch mask to have men falling after us is unfortunate. I have not read the full book. But my reaction is "fuck it!" and read Cunt by Inga Muscio, a far more enlightening and empowering piece of work.
She found the women men most desire are independent, pursue their own goals and dreams separate from a man, and do not expect him to rescue them. Men like a woman who does not place him at the center of everything in her life. Who doesn't appreciate a woman like that? And how does embodying these characteristics make a woman "a bitch"?
Personally I don't have the energy to read yet another book that tells me that I need to change myself in order to snag a relationship or that there is something lacking in me because I've had relationships that haven't panned out. I think you should simply be who you are and the right person will want to have you in their life. Not all men and women love bitches. That women in our culture are feeling pressured to place on the bitch mask to have men falling after us is unfortunate. I have not read the full book. But my reaction is "fuck it!" and read Cunt by Inga Muscio, a far more enlightening and empowering piece of work.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Food. Gardening. Poetry.
Here is a glimpse of what I like to do in my free time.
Quesadilla plate.
Brown rice with glazed tofu, cashews, and fall vegetables.
Chicken and mushrooms in a rosemary cream sauce with warm goat cheese.
We have a pumpkin now gracing our front porch and I would like to create a dish next month with the toasted pumpkin seeds. Stay tuned. Inspiration comes from this ingenious blog. What I never could quite express about my thoughts on the power we have to heal ourselves through food, she says it beautifully. My hands long to sink into warm dough as much as breaking open the earth and inhaling the smell of evergreens. My free time is spent dreaming about food and cooking and gardens and the poetry that runs through it. My table is a collage of cookbooks, gardening books, and books on fiction writing, where I make creations to release to the outside world.
I've been making phone calls this week to find a secure place to teach the writing workshops. My housemate's non-profit organization, the one I applied to work for a week ago, has now laid off the entire division the job was in. Now I understand why I was never called to interview! Knowing my luck, I would have been hired only to be laid off from yet another temp position. I've been considering waitressing to earn a little extra at this one favorite restaurant of mine that told me they were hiring. When I met with the manager yesterday afternoon after filling out the application in detail, he informed me that they are no longer hiring. I almost felt like crying getting back into my car parked on the street. The crushing weight of survival is intense. This is exactly the reason behind "diversifying" and going into business for myself as a designer, a teacher, and a writer. The roots of survival must not be completely dependent on other businesses and corporate America.
Drops of rain were falling onto the windshield, running down the glass, pooling at the bottom and rolling onto the front, and I just sat inside the car without switching it on. The beginning of rush hour traffic whizzed by. A street bum wandered down the sidewalk next to women in business suits waiting to cross at the light. I looked up at the tall city buildings full of offices and computers, which symbolize the core system I'm striving to break free from one day. However, I'm not about to turn down a job that pays well within it right now as I find new and alternative ways to earn a living. A friend's phone call interrupted my reverie and she said, "Hey, would you be interested in working as a freelance copywriter for the company I work for? My boss is looking for someone like you." It often comes down to not what you know but who you know in this city. The sunshine of hope began to creep back in like the sound of jazz music breaking me from the blues.
I remember my life two years ago. I remember having enough. I had my own apartment downtown with a garden tub and balcony overlooking the city. Black granite counter tops in the kitchen and tall bookshelves in the living room. Minutes from The Blue Dahlia Bistro and Rio Rita. I could walk to work in twenty minutes in the mornings. I had my own desk that I decorated with favorite photographs and books. I was paid well to write. I was dating E* and I remember her coming over to see me and how I would dash down the three flights of stairs to open the door to let her in. She would kiss me on the lips in the doorway and I would lead her back into my apartment. I miss that life. But I was aware of the void I felt being caught working for a corporation. Something was out of place and back then I could not place my finger on it. I was conscious on a deep level that this was not what I was meant to do for long. It was as if at any moment the foundation would snap and everything would be gone...
It did, and the pieces have been rearranged, but I am still standing.
Quesadilla plate.
Brown rice with glazed tofu, cashews, and fall vegetables.
Chicken and mushrooms in a rosemary cream sauce with warm goat cheese.
We have a pumpkin now gracing our front porch and I would like to create a dish next month with the toasted pumpkin seeds. Stay tuned. Inspiration comes from this ingenious blog. What I never could quite express about my thoughts on the power we have to heal ourselves through food, she says it beautifully. My hands long to sink into warm dough as much as breaking open the earth and inhaling the smell of evergreens. My free time is spent dreaming about food and cooking and gardens and the poetry that runs through it. My table is a collage of cookbooks, gardening books, and books on fiction writing, where I make creations to release to the outside world.
I've been making phone calls this week to find a secure place to teach the writing workshops. My housemate's non-profit organization, the one I applied to work for a week ago, has now laid off the entire division the job was in. Now I understand why I was never called to interview! Knowing my luck, I would have been hired only to be laid off from yet another temp position. I've been considering waitressing to earn a little extra at this one favorite restaurant of mine that told me they were hiring. When I met with the manager yesterday afternoon after filling out the application in detail, he informed me that they are no longer hiring. I almost felt like crying getting back into my car parked on the street. The crushing weight of survival is intense. This is exactly the reason behind "diversifying" and going into business for myself as a designer, a teacher, and a writer. The roots of survival must not be completely dependent on other businesses and corporate America.
Drops of rain were falling onto the windshield, running down the glass, pooling at the bottom and rolling onto the front, and I just sat inside the car without switching it on. The beginning of rush hour traffic whizzed by. A street bum wandered down the sidewalk next to women in business suits waiting to cross at the light. I looked up at the tall city buildings full of offices and computers, which symbolize the core system I'm striving to break free from one day. However, I'm not about to turn down a job that pays well within it right now as I find new and alternative ways to earn a living. A friend's phone call interrupted my reverie and she said, "Hey, would you be interested in working as a freelance copywriter for the company I work for? My boss is looking for someone like you." It often comes down to not what you know but who you know in this city. The sunshine of hope began to creep back in like the sound of jazz music breaking me from the blues.
I remember my life two years ago. I remember having enough. I had my own apartment downtown with a garden tub and balcony overlooking the city. Black granite counter tops in the kitchen and tall bookshelves in the living room. Minutes from The Blue Dahlia Bistro and Rio Rita. I could walk to work in twenty minutes in the mornings. I had my own desk that I decorated with favorite photographs and books. I was paid well to write. I was dating E* and I remember her coming over to see me and how I would dash down the three flights of stairs to open the door to let her in. She would kiss me on the lips in the doorway and I would lead her back into my apartment. I miss that life. But I was aware of the void I felt being caught working for a corporation. Something was out of place and back then I could not place my finger on it. I was conscious on a deep level that this was not what I was meant to do for long. It was as if at any moment the foundation would snap and everything would be gone...
It did, and the pieces have been rearranged, but I am still standing.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
"You aries women are always so focused on your careers..."
I'm in the midst of designing for my first client. My kitchen table is a mess, covered in colored pencils, pens, ruler, drawing paper, plant books, garden plans, aloe vera plants, and I love it. Yesterday I visited their house on the outskirts of the city limits. We walked through the backyard together. She told me "We're not on a budget. Design whatever you like." It was like music to my ears. To have the luxury of designing what I *want* in someone's half acre backyard is a total dream. I'm envisioning tall oleander trees lining the fence, magnolias, an intricate vegetable garden with Provencal paths, and colorful southwestern flower beds (roses too) accented with sand and beveled glass. She added that she would like to have me design a container garden for their courtyard in the future, and that she would be happy to recommend me to the neighborhood because "people are always looking for a landscape designer." I felt like I hit the jack pot. To go out on a limb and pursue something you love feels terrifying and also gratifying. Self-doubt is usually lurking in the background. Am I going to fuck it up? Am I going to fail? Can I actually do this?? I know I can't expect perfection in the beginning, but I have a good feeling about working as a designer, like it comes naturally. My second client, I'm meeting her this weekend to discuss how to re-design her backyard. I'll feel more confident as soon as I have these initial designs under my belt. I think that working with the city to revitalize areas too down the road could be an interesting project to be involved with. In regards to following my heart more, I've decided that my creative writing workshop series is in the works. I would like to teach a fall class on poetry, the short story and novel, and maybe a creative workshop on art therapy techniques for social workers and therapists to use with their clients (creative writing is naturally part of that). I will have to write out a curriculum for each workshop and figure out where the hell I'm going to teach! It could be out of my home dining room at first. I feel like it is now or never. Follow what you *really* want to be doing with your life. Right now.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sundays....
A rainy afternoon spent at the neighborhood coffee house applying for jobs and savoring a bottomless cup of coffee. Cross yer fingers and toes that someone calls soon. My housemate's non-profit organization is now hiring a quitline phone counselor to talk to people who are quitting smoking and she may be able to get me the interview. I actually used to work for this organization years ago.
Tonight will be cooking spicy spaghetti for dinner and a friend's going away art show complete with a poet from Chicago.
I love Sunday nights when the world slows down and time feels suspended in the air.
Tonight will be cooking spicy spaghetti for dinner and a friend's going away art show complete with a poet from Chicago.
I love Sunday nights when the world slows down and time feels suspended in the air.
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