Saturday, November 21, 2009

Like a lot of people, Project Runway was why I got hooked on Bravo.

Despite Jonathan Adler's dismal "See you later, decorator" catchphrase I stuck around and watched Top Design.

Top Chef. Big fan.

I'll even watch the episodes I've already seen. Even when I remember who won. Even when I remember what everyone cooked ingredient for ingredient.

And I watched and continue to watch because I'm fascinated by creativity and watching people with a passion for creating new things, seeing the world in new ways.

More and more though, Bravo seems to be moving away from celebrating people who have devoted their lives to a particular craft.

So where's a person to get their fix?

Back in the day, when I started reading blogs to get through an afternoon at work, I stumbled on Bradford Shellhammer's blog. It was fun. It was fast. It was cosmo-fabulous.

It always made me think of Sex and the City.

Not in a lame, stereotype kind of way.

And, actually, not in a "the t.v. show" way. But like the book. A kind of catalog of urban cool.

It was an online daydream for someone sitting at their desk eating Subway, wondering how it was he went from art school to, well, sitting at a desk eating Subway.

I've been a faithful reader of the blog and, when I decided to set up shop here, I made sure to add it to my blog list.

Mr. Shellhammer just posted a video that he did with the folks from dwell (1) and it is, like the blog, pretty fabulous.

Not only did it restore some of my faith in the creative world, it put a new song on my iPod.

And for those of you still shopping for Christmas...I may actually be able to pull off that hat.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Is that my bellybutton?

I've heard about these devices that can be attached to cars that act like mini-breathalyzer. If you blow in the tube and your reading falls outside certain parameters, your car won't start.

I think that I need to install one of those rigs on my laptop.

That's not to say that I was drunk when I posted yesterday. Just really rundown and cranky and prone to singing, "Like a circle in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel..." as I found myself once more debating what to do when I grow up (1).

Instead of going to bed I unfortunately committed a bit of poorly written and awkwardly structured naval gazing.


Today though, I had one of those moments (2) where I realized that the answers really are always right in front of your face. What was it that Dorothy tells Glinda when asked what it is she learned from her trip to OZ? Something about if you're ever looking for your heart's desire you might not need to go any further than your own backyard?

Before the irony is noted I'll say it myself.

This is another post about me.

Or, it is on the surface.

The backstory, or stories, that I can't tell because they aren't truly my stories - those are about other people. Those are the stories that have reminded me that the work each and every one of us does has the potential to change things. Those are the bits that make it clear that I do know what I want to do when I grow up...I just have to figure out the how.

Not really an earth shattering revelation...but pretty good for a Friday afternoon.

Posts about other people to come.

1. It's just a phrase...not the expression of a Peter Pan-type syndrome.
2. Actually I had three of those on video.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Gates & Goodbyes

Jeanne-Claude passed away yesterday evening.

The 74-year old artist, best known for the large-scale public installation works she created with her husband Christo, died in New York from complications of a brain aneurysm.

In February 2005 Leopold and a group of our friends headed to Central Park to see the bright orange flags of The Gates.

What was I doing?


Work has been an ongoing subject of conversation around our house because I'm still in transition and trying to figure out how to make this admittedly ridiculous schedule work.

The reality?

Something is going to have to give.

Now to decide what that might be.

God bless Jeanne-Claude. Know the great difference your work made in the world.


I'm spending more time on the subway these days, rocketing back and forth between jobs and reporting assignments.

It's not really enough time to write...though I do sometimes get a few paragraphs jotted down for things that I'm working on (usually when deadline is looming and I'm desperately trying to get something started or finished).

But it is enough time to listen.

My iPod is quickly filling up with storytellers and actors reading short stories. The Moth podcast has joined Selected Shorts and This American Life as particular obsessions.

There's something incredible calming about hearing someone tell a story. I'm not one for meditation or yoga or contemplative stillness. I'd love it if I was but that's just not me.

So, instead, I spend my time sitting on the subway listening to Parker Posey read a Miranda July short story.

You make your own "Ohm."

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

When Real Life is This American Life.

Have you ever had one of those days where it seems like someone might actually be trying to tell you something?

Like your day is being coaxed into following some kind of bizarre theme? Dished out in, I don't know, three or four acts with a new story by David Sedaris?

Today's theme, if I'm reading things right, is perspective.

While not everything has been a "wow, the world is such a marvelous place!" kind of transformation, even the things that haven't been so great have actually taught me a thing or two.

Like there is nothing better than seeing someone caught up in a fit of laughter they can't control.