Home Furnishings

A few months ago, Facebook was besieged by a plague of lists wherein people would share things about themselves. Not usually one to engage in mass hysterics, I would have sat this one out per usual, but my sister suggested we should both participate out of familial duty since our cousins had expressed interest in our doing so. Of course, I ended up the George to her Jerry, detailing various perceived idiosyncracies about myself in a painstaking act of reveal-thy-self, while she never quite got around to it. Bah humbug.

In that list (see below), I mentioned that home furnishings stress me out. Example: behold my teacups! I love them, but the thought of having to keep up with them and ensure their safety as I move from place to place is enough to make me want to just sell them off right now.

The List 25
1. Facebook stresses me out sometimes (case in point right here), as do doormen, home furnishings, and non-hair-related conversations with hairstylists.

2. I recently discovered that my abdomen has an onion intolerance, not the six embryos I had originally suspected.

3. I used to think I should live without regrets, but now I think that my regrets teach me important life lessons.

4. I start counting my regrets at kindergarten (because my pre-school self just didn't know any better).

5. All of my regrets involve interpersonal relationships, which I am terrible at navigating (but I'm sure you already knew that).

6. My first regret stems from the first day of kindergarten, when I was so relieved that Amy Smialowicz asked me to play that I am quite sure that I did not turn back to wave goodbye to my mother.

7. My second regret is that I never thanked Amy Smialowicz for asking me to play.

8. I attended four colleges in four years.

9. I resent all the other April Changs in the world for diluting the powerful cachet attached to my name.

10. A placenta once fell onto my shoe. The stain just recently faded.

11. I have a recurring nightmare where I fail my childhood piano teacher.

12. I'm interested in living in a commune of people who are successful, intelligent, and don't make me vomit. Please send leads.

13. I secretly wish everyone knew about my blog.

14. I took a weekend trip to Los Angeles with nothing but a carry-on suitcase and ended up staying there for a year.

15. I went nuts wearing my entire wardrobe when I returned from LA, but now I want to go back to having no belongings.

16. I grew up watching almost 40 hours of television per week.

17. Some jobs I've had: blueberry picker, street hustler (of comedy tickets), Pepsi Challenge promotional photographer, birth doula, nanny, telemarketer. This list is still growing.

18. Masseuses always tell me I'm flexible and have soft skin, but I think that's because they're used to hairy old people.

19. I once had an eyelash that was 1.5 inches long. I wanted to submit it to Guinness, but I couldn't find a photographer with both the skillz and willingness to photograph my novelty act.

20. As a child, I tried to domesticate a fly by trapping it in a plastic container and naming it Fred. To my horror, he died a few days later.

21. I also once used my Care Bear stuffed animal to mop up spilled apple juice.

22. And would stuff half-eaten hot dogs under the couch.

23. And would bite the edge of an oblong throw pillow and thrash it around while calling it a hot dog.

24. Self-checkout terminals have allowed me to live out my lifelong dream of being a grocery store clerk.

25. I have four alarm clocks and can sleep through all of them.

Jobs for Me

The following is a list of jobs I think I could enjoy, in no particular order (culled from the results of a 5-minute quiz on The Princeton Review's website):

• set designer. coincidentally, i wrote a paper on this career option in 9th grade, much to the dismay of my uptight Advanced English teacher). but n.b. this would have to be for sets for projects with meaning because ultimately i couldn't stress out about where Gwen Stefani's video screen was.
  
• florist. would have to develop green thumb. but like the contribution to aesthetics this job would provide. plus, clear opportunity for own business and distinguish self from rest (competitive spirit satisfied).
• mediator. a little ho-hum, but easy transition from current job. plus, opportunity for own business. one-on-one counseling element satisfied and working on something with meaning/respected/non-frivolous.
• trial lawyer. i'm surprised at this one because i have recently realized i detest selling/persuading others (either you see the light or you don't). one-on-one counseling potential, respected work, but ho-hum.
• writer. yep. but enslaved or free agent?
• secretary. but too high stakes because your principal relies on you for everything.
  
• professor. but need to know too much? satisfies prestige, respectability, non-sell-out but not a sucker, get one-on-one counseling element and showmanship.
• nutritionist. but low on the rung--why not doctor. = respectability in question. one-on-one counseling/imparting knowledge satisfied. field of interest.
• fashion designer. yes. i'll take this to include jewelry. but uphill battle w/ $.
  
• cosmetologist. yes. i'll take this to include estheticians. one-on-one counseling. work of value. aesthetic-oriented. own business opportunity. potential to school everyone.
• comedian. yep. uphill battle w/ $.
  
• college administrator. yes. one-on-one counseling (if student services/residential related). academic environment = respectable.
  
• career counselor. yes. one-on-one counseling, imparting knowledge.
  
• artist. see fashion designer.
• antiques dealer. own business, specialized knowledge, public-oriented.
• actor. see comedian.
  

Ambling Through Rambling Thoughts on the Role of Work

Thus far, I've been approaching my working life as a series of experiences. This is not borne out of a conscious effort--it is simply the way I see the world. I struggle a great deal with the idea of work. Apparently it is necessary in our society--it is what we do with ourselves. So for me, what I do with myself has been a series of thoughtful adventures--ways to bide my time. But ultimately, all this time-biding begs the question: do I want to keep racking up narcissistic trophies to showcase the panopoly of things I've done, pursuing novelty job/career paths but never fully investing in any one of them? Or, do I want to actually produce a life's work. Work that gets enriched by experience. And the answer, I believe, is a no to the former and a yes to the latter.

And here is where my impatience enters. I hate the idea of further wasting precious experience-gaining years on novelty acts and vanity jobs. My current job is the beginning to a marvelous career, complete with intellectual challenge, ample recognition, and financial rewards. But ultimately, I don't want to have lived my life in this career. The thought of even spending two years in this field petrifies me.

What, then, is the solution? How should I make money instead? Should I make money pursuing my creative interests instead or in addition? My initial plan was to pursue my creative interests in addition. But woe is me, I failed to realize the folly of that plan--to work in this field is to work at minimum 40 hours per week, which for me leaves precious little time for much else.

Aside: I have recently been giving much thought to energy levels and individual success and compatibility with others. We each have our own energy level. Matching of energy levels is important for compatibility, but do those with low energy levels succeed or achieve less than their high-energy counterparts? They most certainly would be less prolific. But a singular piece of high quality work can be enough. I would consider myself to be someone who possesses a moderate energy level. This means I can work 55 hours/week and find time to do other activities, but the other activities can probably only amount to about 7-8 hours at the absolute maximum without me feeling like my life is falling apart, and even then, I don't feel like my household is running properly.

I think the solution is to find a less demanding job that will still allow me to:

1. get out of debt and
2. have time for creative pursuits

and the goal would be to eventually transition out of that job entirely and focus 100% on the creative pursuit.

Potential less time-intensive jobs:

• career counselor
• admissions officer
• RA
• job recruiter
• non-profit job

When to shift:

1) In 1.5 years, after credit card debt paid off?
2) In 20 years, after I have firmly established myself as a respectable member of society?

Remember: extreme early retirement.

Dairy Diary

This week in Dairy Diary, I deviate slightly from the established format to (1) answer a question I posed in Entry 1 and (2) discuss that more frequently produced waste product: URINE.

Dairy Diary: Homeless Defecation and Urine

1. What do homeless people do when they get diarrhea? While I do not have an answer to homeless diarrhea, I am now the privileged owner of an answer to homeless defecation. Much to my dismay, it seems other homeless people have not yet gotten wise to the utility of a plastic bag-cum-toilet. On my way out of the Lexington Avenue station of the E train the other day, I peeped a homeless squatting on the edge of the platform dropping feces directly onto the floor. Tsk tsk!

Aside: If homeless people had dogs, they would soon learn the beneficial uses of plastic bags, and maybe then we could avoid getting fecal matter onto subway platforms. Plus, area animal shelters are overburdened as is. Providing each homeless person in NYC with a dog could therefore be a cost-effective route to enhancing the quality of life of all New Yorkers.

2. Urine. I have taken to guzzling R.W. Knudsen's Just Cranberry juice of late. Though it leaves a disappointing aftertaste that is not unlike that which is left in the mouth after an episode of vomiting, its rapid and salutary impact on the bladder and urinary tract absolutely cannot be denied. Two snaps up.

Tired and Feathered

Yowzers!

I recently moved, and for the first time in all the many times I've lived in NYC, I must furnish my living space from scratch.

It's been a struggle, to say the least. Furniture is expensive, so I definitely can't buy it all at once, and locating furniture and other home furnishings that are at once space-appropriate and consistent with my aesthetic goals compounds the difficulte. Not to mention the financial and physical challenge of hauling something to my apartment or being home Monday-Friday during the day to accept a delivery.

Aside: why do furniture stores for Manhattanites even sell full-sized couches and dining tables? Surely
# of shoebox apartments > # of properly proportioned apartments here, non?

Aaanyway, to add more financial insult to financial injury and more hassle to hassle, my existing possessions are deteriorating rapidly (see earlier post entitled "10-year replacement cycle"). Case in point: my down comforter. I woke up one chilly November morning to find my bed and person covered in loose feathers. Covered! Tarred and feathered, minus the tar. It was as if a gaggle of girls had taken over my bedroom under the cover of night and thrown the archetypal slumber party. I wonder how many secrets got whispered behind hands and into ears that night. I hope it was a lot, and I hope they were juicy because otherwise I'm suffering for nought.

Oh my god. It was such an utter desastre in my apartment and covered me so completely from head to toe in feathers that I had two, count 'em TWO strangers who saw me that morning inquire as to what on earth happened to me.

Ugh. Fortunately, today, I finally purchased a new comforter. Now, if I could just get my hands on a decent broom.

Dairy Diary

My loss is your gain!

I ate 2-goblets worth of chocolate pudding in a hurry today, only to find myself, 30 minutes later, shuttling back and forth between the bathroom and my office for the next 2 hours in a cold sweat. At times, I was in the stall so long that the motion-sensor lights shut off, forgetting all about the presence of my sentient being. I haven't jacked my system up like that in a while.

I must admit--at first, I thought it might have been that old mushy salmon I ate for lunch. What was I thinking?! It was so obviously the chocolate pudding. And so arrives the debut of . . .

Dairy Diary: Triggers for Toilet Time in the Dark

Entry 1: loads of chocolate pudding eaten quickly in one sitting.

And just because I want to add a "homeless" tag to this entry, I pose the following rumination: what do homeless people do when they get diarrhea? Surely they get sick all of the time eating food out of the garbage. Is the sidewalk the answer? Aside: Now that I'm a dog-owner, I realize how easily a plastic bag can turn into a portable toilet. If/when I am homeless, I plan to excrete my solid waste into plastic bags.

10-year replacement cycle

it seems that several of my major belongings are all coming due for replacement at the same time.

because my mind is boggled and blown by how much of my stuff has literally deteriorated or been used up, i'm going to keep an ongoing list here:

1. sneakers for the exercise
2. digital camera
3. computer
4. summer sandals/flip flops
5. summer dresses
6. nightclothes
7. casual belts
8. casual bags
9. eyeglasses
10. exercise clothes
11. pants to kick around in
12. casual summer shirts
13. nasty t-shirts

do you know how long it took me to build a decent nasty t-shirt collection?!

update (7/30/08):

1. down comforter
2. jeans

update (9/5/08):

1. carry-on suitcase
2. weekender shoulder luggage

update (3/18/09):

1. got a digital camera (thanks!)
2. got a down comforter
   

tomorrow, the bronx

today, i go to staten island. should i stay in new york city, i choose to live in a backwater.

the square community

i suppress 85% myself in my working life. is this choice or necessity? i feel it's necessity. in an effort to be who they want me to be, i feel i can't be me, and so i turn into an empty canvas. no personality, no opinions, no style.
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i've been waging a war against the square community for almost a decade now, and it's starting to feel like the squares are winning. they're making me bland. i'm conforming to their lackluster desires. i'm wearing their lackluster clothing and following their lackluster schedule and letting their pathetic hopes, dreams, fears, comforts, and existence seep into mine.
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i need to move to an abandoned warehouse in the country.
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i need to know what claude monet and rainer maria rilke did besides paint and write.
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these 2 writings are helpful:

1) Failure is the best thing ever because it broadens your horizons and equips you in ways success never could - an article in Men's Health (as posted in someone else's blog). Excerpt:

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Maybe failure isn’t the problem. Maybe expectation is.
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After I was fired from my TV show, I was certain I’d never work in television again. I’d been given a great opportunity and blown it. The studio and network were out millions of dollars. But then the phone started ringing, with studios and networks asking whether I’d consider doing TV again. What had changed?
--

Nothing. I’d simply forgotten what folks working in TV take as a given: Most shows fail. Every spring, the networks introduce new products to replace the fall and winter die-off. When a show tanks, they don’t spend weeks wondering why. They put a new show in its place.
--

They expect failure, and are delighted when it doesn’t come.
In the case of Tom, my hunch is that he’d become stuck in an expectation loop. He’d spent years carefully mapping out his ascent: student-body president, law-school review, a great internship. He expected to succeed - we all should - but he hadn’t considered alternate paths to success. One misstep sent him scrambling, questioning all his other assumptions. Of course, it’d be wrong for me to write Tom off. Maybe his latest failure will force him to reassess his expectations. Maybe it’ll be what finally propels him to success.
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Most of us will never run a TV show or run for elected office. But we will all fail, repeatedly. Failure is a universal condition. We lose our jobs; we lose our marriages; we lose to the dealer’s flush in Vegas.
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When these traumas happen, we generally find ourselves on the familiar Kübler-Ross stages of loss: denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But how we cope is less important than how we remember the experiences afterward. The best failures aren’t forgotten; they’re incorporated into our life’s narrative.
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My D.C. debacle, as miserable as it was to live through, has become a cherished memory. It’s a small scar that invites a big story, with big personalities. At first, I framed myself as the innocent victim in the drama, but over the years I came to view the whole thing as more of a hurricane that we all weathered together.
The great thing about surviving a storm is that you’re much better prepared the next time the winds start kicking up. You recognize the early warnings. You stock up on essentials. And, most crucial, you go in knowing that no matter what happens, you can always rebuild.
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Failure makes you ready in ways that success never could.
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The next time I found myself pitching a show, I had a much clearer idea of what I wanted. I knew what I was good at and what I was better off delegating to others. I knew that as much as I believed in the show, if it all went south, I’d be okay.
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Because I’d failed, I wasn’t afraid of failing. And that enabled me to push a lot harder for what I believed in.
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The movie is unconventional and questionably commercial. In its wildest success, it might play festivals and arthouses before hitting DVD. Given all these risks, why do it?
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Because even in failure, I knew I’d grow from it. There were things I needed to learn about movies - and myself - that I wasn’t going to learn from writing another script.
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It’s just like weight training, really. You push yourself until your muscles fail. That’s how you grow stronger. Likewise, in life, unless you seek you’ll never mentally develop beyond that scrawny kid from high school.
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That’s why you have to drop to one knee and propose to the girl you’re pretty sure you love. That’s why you have to send out your résumé, even though your job is just fine. That’s why you have to climb that 14,000-foot mountain. It won’t always work out. You may get divorced. Or fired. Or frostbitten. But the alternative is a life of vague disappointment.
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When that nagging little voice pops up, wondering what’s going to happen if you fail, just ignore it. Yes, it’s hard. As humans, we’re programmed for loss aversion. But money is just money. Your job is just your job. Your life - the adventure of your life - is all you really have that’s yours.
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When things go wrong, when you’re sliding toward an unavoidable crash, don’t panic. In those long seconds before the impact, look around and figure out how you entered into this mess. Think about how you’ll frame the story a year from now, over a few beers. Can you come up with an honest version that ends, “So in a funny way, it was the best thing that ever happened to me”?
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Perfect. Then brace yourself.

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2) Perhaps it's time to take a leap instead of muddling through - Passion Ave & Conformity St, a blog post about making a choice when faced with crossroads. Not all that insightful in and of itself, but it does have that great title and these quotes that make me restless and keep me questioning work, my job, money, life, etc.:

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Work is necessary: “Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.” —Albert Camus

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Stupid 401k: “Chase your passion, not your pension.”— Denis Waitley
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Don't settle: “Is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?”—Friedrich Nietzsche
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Need to love the work: “With out passion you don’t have energy, with out energy you have nothing.”— Donald Trump

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The time is now: “Waste no more time talking about great souls and how they should be. Become one yourself!”-Marcus Aurelius Antoninus
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You have to try: “Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire. This is your moment. Own it.”-Oprah Winfrey

Haste Makes Waste

one thing i've always enjoyed wherever i am is finding random stuff on the side of the street by serendipity. it's my prissy/lazy/squeamish way of dumpster diving. some of the best finds are made off of the streets of new york city (okay, so there's one reason to like this place). of course, the competition from my fellow cheapskates, hipsters, self-aggrandizing yippies, and the homeless (there's a homeless person inside of me that's just waiting to come out) means i have to act fast if i see something juicy.

last night, i found this set of linens that, despite their freshly laundered scent, i'm too scared of to treat with any respect.

i'll either wash them or return them to the streets, depending on how much i start hating them and how bad i feel about taking bounty that could have gone to a homeless person. i'm sure the former will end up being the deciding factor, since i've noticed that i'm starting to lose patience for homeless people.