I think that being appreciated is what I most want out of the interactions I have with other people. This is especially the case when it comes to work. I've worked so many places on short term freelance projects where I'm expected to work long (10+) hours a day for however long it takes to complete the job. My rate is never hour dependent, and is often measured by week and not day (so coming in on weekends adds nothing to the number). I'm sometimes treated like the expendable member of the mobile workforce that I happen to be, am talked down to, credited improperly, and/or paid half to a quarter of my rate. I do not mind working hard, or for long hours, or on weekends. I enjoy feeling busy, and needed, by a project. But to be treated poorly and taken for granted is just the worst, and it happens. It just happens.
Where I'm working now makes me feel appreciated and talented. When a day hits 12 hours, my boss apologizes. If I stay late, they make me take a car home. I'm treated like an artist doing quality work.
I just wanted to take a moment and really feel grateful for the quality of this work environment and the quality of the people I'm sharing it with.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
endings and startings
A three-year contract with a much beloved client has come to an end. I've edited more than 250 very similar videos for their website on a monthly basis, and I've really been grateful for this work and the kindness of the people I've worked with. It's helped me through some freelance periods when other work was scarce.
I've had a blast of new projects over the last few months, which neatly buffered this loss and allowed me to see what's possible moving forward. When something this long-standing comes to an end, it can feel abrupt and the transition can be brutal, but this happened easily and with a lot of respect on both sides - I've spent today editing a surprise outtakes video I'll send them closer to Christmas. It's an example of a company just evolving, and moving their freelance needs to a position in-house.
But so grateful for the last three years of that project. And so grateful to be able to devote myself to new things.
I've had a blast of new projects over the last few months, which neatly buffered this loss and allowed me to see what's possible moving forward. When something this long-standing comes to an end, it can feel abrupt and the transition can be brutal, but this happened easily and with a lot of respect on both sides - I've spent today editing a surprise outtakes video I'll send them closer to Christmas. It's an example of a company just evolving, and moving their freelance needs to a position in-house.
But so grateful for the last three years of that project. And so grateful to be able to devote myself to new things.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
the top of the tops
This is just the best thing I've seen in forever.
Wow.
At the risk of sounding like the type of person I totally and obviously am, cats are so fucking cool.
Wow.
At the risk of sounding like the type of person I totally and obviously am, cats are so fucking cool.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
caramel and pie crusts
I spent 20 minutes today watching water boil and sugar dissolve into the sucking bubbles. It gives you caramel, those two things, just those two things and heat, and then later heavy cream, and you absolutely cannot stir them at that front part of the process or it will crystalize, and this was the caramel that gets added to cream cheese and is born into icing, so it must be smooth and liquid.
Baking is a really humbling way to spend hours and hours of your time. I come back to it often as a process I theoretically really enjoy. The fruits of that process, when successful, are often elegant and make me really proud. But then sometimes I fail and don't know why. I don't bake often enough to get intuitive with it, to get a sense of the feel and look something should have in its early assembly states. Just about half the time I make pie crusts, they won't roll out and I have to start over. Sometimes, like with the birthday cake I just made, there's a failure, but it's gentle - it's not enough that I won't take the cake to the party - but it isn't as good as it should be, and I don't know why. It's the not knowing why that gets me. Wow, does it get me. I built this thing with my hands and my hands feel responsible if something goes amiss.
Pie crusts are hard and people know that they're hard. I went on an apple pie making bender a few years ago, and the contractor for our house was over, and I gave him a piece of freshly-made pie. Someone else mentioned I'd made the pie fully from scratch and our contractor was incredulous. He said, "you need to get over that. You know you can buy the crusts already made." And when it's Thanksgiving morning and a crust is failing, I see the wisdom in readymade crusts, so flaky, so nice a platter for the filling that people like more than crust anyway, that's when I'm like, wow, he was right. Maybe I do need to get over this. But like everything, like life, the failures increase the potency of the successes. Last night I made bread, a recipe by Nigella Lawson (as was the cake from today), and it was airy and crusty and perfect. A friend was a surprise guest for dinner, and when you have a surprise guest for dinner coinciding with the too-rare baking of fresh bread - that's kind of outstanding. It's like, why yes, we are having fresh bread tonight, that's just how this kitchen rolls, and the exception feels like the rule and I find myself promising to make bread more often.
Twenty more years of regular practice, I just might get the hang of this.
Baking is a really humbling way to spend hours and hours of your time. I come back to it often as a process I theoretically really enjoy. The fruits of that process, when successful, are often elegant and make me really proud. But then sometimes I fail and don't know why. I don't bake often enough to get intuitive with it, to get a sense of the feel and look something should have in its early assembly states. Just about half the time I make pie crusts, they won't roll out and I have to start over. Sometimes, like with the birthday cake I just made, there's a failure, but it's gentle - it's not enough that I won't take the cake to the party - but it isn't as good as it should be, and I don't know why. It's the not knowing why that gets me. Wow, does it get me. I built this thing with my hands and my hands feel responsible if something goes amiss.
Pie crusts are hard and people know that they're hard. I went on an apple pie making bender a few years ago, and the contractor for our house was over, and I gave him a piece of freshly-made pie. Someone else mentioned I'd made the pie fully from scratch and our contractor was incredulous. He said, "you need to get over that. You know you can buy the crusts already made." And when it's Thanksgiving morning and a crust is failing, I see the wisdom in readymade crusts, so flaky, so nice a platter for the filling that people like more than crust anyway, that's when I'm like, wow, he was right. Maybe I do need to get over this. But like everything, like life, the failures increase the potency of the successes. Last night I made bread, a recipe by Nigella Lawson (as was the cake from today), and it was airy and crusty and perfect. A friend was a surprise guest for dinner, and when you have a surprise guest for dinner coinciding with the too-rare baking of fresh bread - that's kind of outstanding. It's like, why yes, we are having fresh bread tonight, that's just how this kitchen rolls, and the exception feels like the rule and I find myself promising to make bread more often.
Twenty more years of regular practice, I just might get the hang of this.
Friday, December 3, 2010
empire state of heart
Maybe this happens everywhere, maybe not. But in my experience of living in New York for ten years, one of my favorite things is the way weird, vibrant encounters can just flower up unexpectedly. I noticed people really going out of their way to make this happen after 9/11, foraging for a community where they'd maybe before been encouraging the isolation that's so easy here. I've had some incredible conversations in bathrooms at restaurants, with cab drivers, and with other people on a subway car. These conversations are possible only because you will never see that person again. It can give brief intimacy a deep poignancy.
Talking to people who have only visited New York, I always get this "oh but I could never live there" reaction, which I get. I get that. It's noisy and the subway at rush hour is fucking unpleasant and there's a potential for danger here that feels less real in smaller towns, even if it maybe isn't less real in those towns, even if danger is danger and it exists everywhere, especially places where poverty is rising and desperation is more of a guiding principle and, I don't know, anyway, I get that New York is not for everyone. It takes one of those days where you miss two or three trains in a row by nothing but seconds, and maybe it snowed and now there are huge pools of water at every curb which you are forced to step in, and you can feel the tremors of the loneliness right at the edge of vision from just being among so many people. It's sometimes a really crushing thing. But so I'll have one of these shit commute days, mixed in with bad weather, with feeling like too small a part of too large a place, and I can get that feeling of maybe New York isn't for me, either. Days happen where inconveniences feel personal. New York has made me less kind. I have been known to body check tourists who block subway doors. But New York has also made my day to day life infinitely, infinitely more interesting. This is a really key trade off.
So when someone comes to New York for four days, and spends those days doing "everything" - Times Square, the Met, a jukebox musical on Broadway, a two hour wait for dinner at Olive Garden (which, like all chains in the city, gives the calorie count of each menu item, which is brutal, just brutal) - this is when they say, "how can anyone live here?"
The expense, I get. The stupid living conditions that people get used to because they want to be in a certain neighborhood or hit a certain price point (the shower in the kitchen, the windowless, prison-cell bedroom), I get that this is awful. The terrible dating scene of too much meets too little, and that harsh combustion. The Meatpacking District. But that's never what people mean, really. They mean Times Square. But nobody who lives here hangs out in Times Square. Or maybe they mean the size of New York, as if residents of this city experienced it all at once, constantly. New York is many, many small neighborhoods, next to each other. I don't take in the totality of this place unless I can't avoid it.
All this to say: New York, you know what? You're fucking worth it. Testing the limits of my connection makes me value you more. Thanks for keeping me around for 10 years.
Talking to people who have only visited New York, I always get this "oh but I could never live there" reaction, which I get. I get that. It's noisy and the subway at rush hour is fucking unpleasant and there's a potential for danger here that feels less real in smaller towns, even if it maybe isn't less real in those towns, even if danger is danger and it exists everywhere, especially places where poverty is rising and desperation is more of a guiding principle and, I don't know, anyway, I get that New York is not for everyone. It takes one of those days where you miss two or three trains in a row by nothing but seconds, and maybe it snowed and now there are huge pools of water at every curb which you are forced to step in, and you can feel the tremors of the loneliness right at the edge of vision from just being among so many people. It's sometimes a really crushing thing. But so I'll have one of these shit commute days, mixed in with bad weather, with feeling like too small a part of too large a place, and I can get that feeling of maybe New York isn't for me, either. Days happen where inconveniences feel personal. New York has made me less kind. I have been known to body check tourists who block subway doors. But New York has also made my day to day life infinitely, infinitely more interesting. This is a really key trade off.
So when someone comes to New York for four days, and spends those days doing "everything" - Times Square, the Met, a jukebox musical on Broadway, a two hour wait for dinner at Olive Garden (which, like all chains in the city, gives the calorie count of each menu item, which is brutal, just brutal) - this is when they say, "how can anyone live here?"
The expense, I get. The stupid living conditions that people get used to because they want to be in a certain neighborhood or hit a certain price point (the shower in the kitchen, the windowless, prison-cell bedroom), I get that this is awful. The terrible dating scene of too much meets too little, and that harsh combustion. The Meatpacking District. But that's never what people mean, really. They mean Times Square. But nobody who lives here hangs out in Times Square. Or maybe they mean the size of New York, as if residents of this city experienced it all at once, constantly. New York is many, many small neighborhoods, next to each other. I don't take in the totality of this place unless I can't avoid it.
All this to say: New York, you know what? You're fucking worth it. Testing the limits of my connection makes me value you more. Thanks for keeping me around for 10 years.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
day off proper
This is one of those off days, nestled between days of work. These days are nice, and sometimes I can get pretty productive. Long stretches of downtime between jobs make me crazy and self-doubting and that's when freelance feels like a euphemism for unemployed. I get worthless and end up watching Ghost Whisperer and it's just trouble.
But today. I'm returning emails, looking forward to dinner plans, and setting a project for myself. I'm going to figure out how to use Soundtrack Pro and mess a bit with the possibilities of looped noise. Grateful for these programs that come with Final Cut Studio that I've never had time or inclination to mess with. Next up will be Color.
But today. I'm returning emails, looking forward to dinner plans, and setting a project for myself. I'm going to figure out how to use Soundtrack Pro and mess a bit with the possibilities of looped noise. Grateful for these programs that come with Final Cut Studio that I've never had time or inclination to mess with. Next up will be Color.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
responsibility is a noisy chicken
I have decided that my own happiness is entirely up to me, and I should approach all parts of my life with this in mind. This is a bit of a game changing revelation, and it's pulled discordant elements of my life into a perspective that makes them sane and pleasurable. I did not get married to feel complete, and I don't think that a more interesting work project will snap me out of cramped up moods. I am entirely responsible for myself. I am waiting for nothing. My happiness is a thing with potential and history. I want to be the type of woman that I want as a daughter - independent, competent, positive.
Obviously, this is hard as shit.
I am trying very hard to choose what I think about, and to redirect my thoughts when they go off-topic, falling into the shouty caverns of things I've lost or failed at doing. This is the trick. I will take pleasure in what I have and I will find the things to be grateful for. Daily. Like the every day kind of daily. It's been a weird, hard year, but it's closing out and I want to be on better terms with 2010 before it's gone.
It's a work in progress. Delicate. Uphill. I welcome December with its rain and dim mornings. I will let go of grudges, loss and fear. I am responsible for my life, and for enjoying even what I can't control.
I'm grateful that this was still here when I was ready to return to it.
Obviously, this is hard as shit.
I am trying very hard to choose what I think about, and to redirect my thoughts when they go off-topic, falling into the shouty caverns of things I've lost or failed at doing. This is the trick. I will take pleasure in what I have and I will find the things to be grateful for. Daily. Like the every day kind of daily. It's been a weird, hard year, but it's closing out and I want to be on better terms with 2010 before it's gone.
It's a work in progress. Delicate. Uphill. I welcome December with its rain and dim mornings. I will let go of grudges, loss and fear. I am responsible for my life, and for enjoying even what I can't control.
I'm grateful that this was still here when I was ready to return to it.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
family matters
This is the summer of family, which is a departure, which is wonderful. Between a cousin's wedding, another cousin's visit to New York, my grandmother's 90th birthday party, my husband's family reunion in Georgia, and a just-happened visit to another cousin of mine, I'm getting to see a lot of people that I don't often get to see apart from cold weather holidays, if then. My family is scattered like buckshot all up and down the east coast. I am not as close with anyone as I would like to be.
So I am grateful for this expensive, lightweight linen summer of travel and large meals and seafood and watching second cousins who were children when I saw them last but are now magically adult-like, and drifting off to college. It is a pleasure that I think too few have to authentically and radically love your family.
So I am grateful for this expensive, lightweight linen summer of travel and large meals and seafood and watching second cousins who were children when I saw them last but are now magically adult-like, and drifting off to college. It is a pleasure that I think too few have to authentically and radically love your family.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
and now I'm skipping shampoo
I've entered phase two of relentless hippie transformation: I'm no longer washing my hair with shampoo or using conditioner.
Things began here, when I started washing my face only with castor and sunflower seed oils, and I love it. I seriously love it. Never going back. Through this, I've eliminated a vast number of vaguely dangerous, definitely unnecessary chemicals from my life. And my skin has never looked this clear or been so soft.
But when researching this odd deviation from the American norm, I saw this: How To Clean Your Hair Without Shampoo.
I know. I know! It's 1974, I'm living on a commune, we're all listening to Big Brother and the Holding Company LPs... But sounding like a conspiracy theorist aside, come on. Washing your hair with the detergents that are in shampoos is, at the dead least, terrifically unnecessary. We need shampoo because using it creates dependence. We strip our hair of oil, and then use artificial means to make it soft. The foaming agents in shampoo (sodium lauryl sulfate and sodium laureth sulfate) are harmful to skin and eyes. They're legal, because the companies that promote these chemicals (and they are in so, so many products - whatever gets foamy), claim that in the act of frothing up a lather, you're not resting the chemicals on your head for long enough to cause any *real* damage. But residual levels store themselves in our internal organs. You get pregnant, you pass it on.
So now I'm rinsing my hair with a baking soda/water mix (1 tbsp baking soda to 1 cup water) and then rinsing it with apple cider vinegar (1 tbsp of that to 1 cup water). I started last Saturday, and have washed it this way every day since. And already, my hair looks just as good as it ever did on shampoo. And it smells like hair, not like anything artificial, or anything gross. Apple cider vinegar (a total cure-all, which is its own post) has a rather bracing smell, which is kind of a nice wake up when I take showers in the morning. But that smell doesn't stay in your hair. You just smell like you.
I don't smell like I live on a commune, which I'm grateful for, but I've stopped spending, oh, god knows how much money. Between hair and face care products, it'll add up to easily $250 a year. More, probably. And these chemicals are out of my life.
Grateful for all of it.
Things began here, when I started washing my face only with castor and sunflower seed oils, and I love it. I seriously love it. Never going back. Through this, I've eliminated a vast number of vaguely dangerous, definitely unnecessary chemicals from my life. And my skin has never looked this clear or been so soft.
But when researching this odd deviation from the American norm, I saw this: How To Clean Your Hair Without Shampoo.
I know. I know! It's 1974, I'm living on a commune, we're all listening to Big Brother and the Holding Company LPs... But sounding like a conspiracy theorist aside, come on. Washing your hair with the detergents that are in shampoos is, at the dead least, terrifically unnecessary. We need shampoo because using it creates dependence. We strip our hair of oil, and then use artificial means to make it soft. The foaming agents in shampoo (sodium lauryl sulfate and sodium laureth sulfate) are harmful to skin and eyes. They're legal, because the companies that promote these chemicals (and they are in so, so many products - whatever gets foamy), claim that in the act of frothing up a lather, you're not resting the chemicals on your head for long enough to cause any *real* damage. But residual levels store themselves in our internal organs. You get pregnant, you pass it on.
So now I'm rinsing my hair with a baking soda/water mix (1 tbsp baking soda to 1 cup water) and then rinsing it with apple cider vinegar (1 tbsp of that to 1 cup water). I started last Saturday, and have washed it this way every day since. And already, my hair looks just as good as it ever did on shampoo. And it smells like hair, not like anything artificial, or anything gross. Apple cider vinegar (a total cure-all, which is its own post) has a rather bracing smell, which is kind of a nice wake up when I take showers in the morning. But that smell doesn't stay in your hair. You just smell like you.
I don't smell like I live on a commune, which I'm grateful for, but I've stopped spending, oh, god knows how much money. Between hair and face care products, it'll add up to easily $250 a year. More, probably. And these chemicals are out of my life.
Grateful for all of it.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
love in june
Today, two of my favorite people in the world are marrying each other in Long Island City.
Brian and Alex, I love you. I'm so grateful that you're in my life, and so grateful that you've found each other.
The biggest of congratulations, and the most sincere wishes for your joy.
Brian and Alex, I love you. I'm so grateful that you're in my life, and so grateful that you've found each other.
The biggest of congratulations, and the most sincere wishes for your joy.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
antifogmatic
Punch Brothers, one of the best bands currently making music, has a new album - Antifogmatic. It technically comes out June 15th, but since I have superfan status, I put in a pre-order a few months back. So two days ago, I got the album, plus an EP, plus an autographed and adorable drink guide, plus a live performance DVD (of a show I happened to attend) and a t-shirt, which I wore the day it arrived.
I'm calling it. This is the best album of the year, ascending even past my beloved Contra. Musicianship and quality of sound just do not get better. There is no one I wouldn't recommend this to. It's fucking unbelievable. It's the Nabokov of audio.
BUY IT THE SECOND IT IS AVAILABLE, AND THEN SEND ME FLOWERS FOR EXPLODING YOUR MIND WITH PERFECTION.
I'm calling it. This is the best album of the year, ascending even past my beloved Contra. Musicianship and quality of sound just do not get better. There is no one I wouldn't recommend this to. It's fucking unbelievable. It's the Nabokov of audio.
BUY IT THE SECOND IT IS AVAILABLE, AND THEN SEND ME FLOWERS FOR EXPLODING YOUR MIND WITH PERFECTION.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
canon is awesomely catching up with their own devices
This is a technical thing, but wow, am I grateful for it.
The Canon 5D and 7D cameras are really lovely DSLRs that also take incredibly good video. I keep coming on projects where I need to edit footage shot with these cameras, but Final Cut can't accept it natively. You have to run it through a program called Compressor (or MPEG Streamclip, which I hear is glitchy when used for this) to change the codec and make it a viable format. Canon finally released a free plug-in, which lets me import the footage directly into the edit software, without intermediary software. It also gives the footage timecode, which is awesome.
Canon! Yay for you! I am grateful for this plug-in!
The Canon 5D and 7D cameras are really lovely DSLRs that also take incredibly good video. I keep coming on projects where I need to edit footage shot with these cameras, but Final Cut can't accept it natively. You have to run it through a program called Compressor (or MPEG Streamclip, which I hear is glitchy when used for this) to change the codec and make it a viable format. Canon finally released a free plug-in, which lets me import the footage directly into the edit software, without intermediary software. It also gives the footage timecode, which is awesome.
Canon! Yay for you! I am grateful for this plug-in!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
redbeard & domicella
Tonight is opening night for a play I'm in called Redbeard & Domicella. It's at The Brick, in Williamsburg. I like the feeling of my cautious excitement in the hours before a show. It's a delicate holding period prior to nervousness. It's something like warming.
My guy is at a bachelor party weekend excursion trip for a close friend of ours, and I'll miss his presence in the audience.
Here's to breaking legs, being nervous, and getting to act in this city. I'm grateful for this.
My guy is at a bachelor party weekend excursion trip for a close friend of ours, and I'll miss his presence in the audience.
Here's to breaking legs, being nervous, and getting to act in this city. I'm grateful for this.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
the tattoo story
A while ago, I mentioned that I wanted to get a tattoo. This is a big deal, a big, painful, permanent deal, and I gave it a lot of thought. I really only considered New York Adorned, because I have a few friends who have gotten beautiful work done there. I went in a few times, asked questions, flipped through books of tattoos that the different artists had done. And I found Virginia Elwood.
Booked my consultation (2 week wait) where I met and quickly fell in love with Virginia. I wanted a branch of dogwood on my lower back, on the right side. I had ideas about how it should look on my body, the use of shading (I wanted only black and grey, no color at all), and how many blossoms it should have. I promised to send her some photographs of dogwood to get a better idea of what I was after (soft blossoms, end of flowering phase). At the consultation, I booked my tattoo appointment (1 month wait).
A week before the tattoo, I sent her photos of flowers. My idea had changed - now I wanted to see the back of a branch, as though the flowers were facing forward, as I am facing forward - so you could only see the front of them if you were looking at me from the front, if you could see through my skin. I wanted one blossom turned back, so you could see the open face of that flower. Somehow, she made sense of that, and when I showed up yesterday, she had a sketch that was perfect. The right size, the right shape, the right everything. It felt right. It felt like me. We tried a few different placements of the stencil, and on the third try, we had it. And she began tattooing.
I'd like to pause for a moment to say that, oddly, I was unprepared for how much it would hurt. The outline of the flower as she passed over my lower ribs... It was thisclose to being literally unendurable. I had a few moments where I thought, fuck it. I'm leaving this place with half a tattoo. Nothing that doesn't result in a child being born should hurt this much. Over my back, it wasn't so bad. By comparison to the ribs, it was a romp in a meadow. Over my ribs, and in the soft flesh of my side, it was like my body was being turned inside out, and I was only shuddering nerve endings.
One of many things about Virginia that I love is that she is fast. She finished in less than 90 minutes, and when it was over, the pain was just a steady throb of a low-grade sunburn. And now it's tender and raised, but there's no pain at all.
So today, still pink while I heal, I have this:
And I love it. I love it. I really, really love it. Thank you, Virginia. I am so grateful for you.
Booked my consultation (2 week wait) where I met and quickly fell in love with Virginia. I wanted a branch of dogwood on my lower back, on the right side. I had ideas about how it should look on my body, the use of shading (I wanted only black and grey, no color at all), and how many blossoms it should have. I promised to send her some photographs of dogwood to get a better idea of what I was after (soft blossoms, end of flowering phase). At the consultation, I booked my tattoo appointment (1 month wait).
A week before the tattoo, I sent her photos of flowers. My idea had changed - now I wanted to see the back of a branch, as though the flowers were facing forward, as I am facing forward - so you could only see the front of them if you were looking at me from the front, if you could see through my skin. I wanted one blossom turned back, so you could see the open face of that flower. Somehow, she made sense of that, and when I showed up yesterday, she had a sketch that was perfect. The right size, the right shape, the right everything. It felt right. It felt like me. We tried a few different placements of the stencil, and on the third try, we had it. And she began tattooing.
I'd like to pause for a moment to say that, oddly, I was unprepared for how much it would hurt. The outline of the flower as she passed over my lower ribs... It was thisclose to being literally unendurable. I had a few moments where I thought, fuck it. I'm leaving this place with half a tattoo. Nothing that doesn't result in a child being born should hurt this much. Over my back, it wasn't so bad. By comparison to the ribs, it was a romp in a meadow. Over my ribs, and in the soft flesh of my side, it was like my body was being turned inside out, and I was only shuddering nerve endings.
One of many things about Virginia that I love is that she is fast. She finished in less than 90 minutes, and when it was over, the pain was just a steady throb of a low-grade sunburn. And now it's tender and raised, but there's no pain at all.
So today, still pink while I heal, I have this:
And I love it. I love it. I really, really love it. Thank you, Virginia. I am so grateful for you.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
the ipad is certainly more fun than the impending phase-out of mankind
There's a sinkhole in Guatemala City. There's still oil coursing into the Golf of Mexico. Even Gawker posts are dominated with stories about shootings and racism. This blog sometimes feels ridiculous to maintain.
Yet. Yet. Yet.
I can host a BBQ. I can keep multiple clients happy on very time-intensive work projects. I can watch movies about babies. Life rolls into summer with elegance, sometimes. And sometimes it helps to focus on the very small picture, while you try to get your head around the big one.
Over the weekend, I got to spend some quality time with the husband. I got him an iPad for his birthday recently, and that's been fun to play with. Sometimes toys are just exactly what a person needs in their life. And it is rewarding to get someone a present that they enjoy as much as he's enjoying the iPad. I like giving gifts, and I think I have something of an aptitude for it. I try to really think about what a person will enjoy, and appreciate, and what reflects them more as the receiver than me as the giver. I'm grateful for the cultural process of gift giving. It just feels nice to do. And for all the noise about the iPad being revolutionary or whatever, it actually kind of is.
Yet. Yet. Yet.
I can host a BBQ. I can keep multiple clients happy on very time-intensive work projects. I can watch movies about babies. Life rolls into summer with elegance, sometimes. And sometimes it helps to focus on the very small picture, while you try to get your head around the big one.
Over the weekend, I got to spend some quality time with the husband. I got him an iPad for his birthday recently, and that's been fun to play with. Sometimes toys are just exactly what a person needs in their life. And it is rewarding to get someone a present that they enjoy as much as he's enjoying the iPad. I like giving gifts, and I think I have something of an aptitude for it. I try to really think about what a person will enjoy, and appreciate, and what reflects them more as the receiver than me as the giver. I'm grateful for the cultural process of gift giving. It just feels nice to do. And for all the noise about the iPad being revolutionary or whatever, it actually kind of is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
