Tag Archives: work

Making Cartoons

I’m so excited to finally announce that I have another project up and running!  Over the next several months, I’m going to be joining forces with my friend (and incredible artist) Michael Greenholt and several of our talented friends to make an animated music video.  One of our very favorite artists, Nick Jaina, is letting us use one of the songs from his new album as the soundtrack to an animated short.  You can listen to and download the album here.

I’ll be talking about the project from time to time on this blog, but if you want to follow along with the production, I’ll be blogging about it at http:weekendobsession.blogspot.com.

See you there!  MUAH!

 

2+2=purple

A few weeks ago, I sat down at my computer, opened up WordPress and started a new post.  This is what I wrote:

I hate Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  My sister made me watch it so many times when we were little.

But that’s also why I love it.

After writing those bits, I just stared at my screen for a while, and nothing else came from my fingertips on to the screen.  I saved the draft and closed out the computer without posting a thing.

Here is what resulted from that draft.

________________________________________________

I’ve been spectacularly lame lately.  I’ve been all: “work is hard yadda yadda” and  “I’m insecure this” and “wah wah crummy birthday that” and now it’s time to stop all of that.

There was a period of my life where I watched all or part of the movies “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” and “Three Ninjas Kick Back” every day for about a year.  My little sister was obsessed with them and insisted we watch them together after school.  She couldn’t just watch them alone, no, no.  I had to be there, too.

I hated it.  I had other things to do, I had homework and friends to play with in the street.

But I loved that she wanted to spend that time with me, even if I didn’t act like it.

Lately, life has felt a lot like my little sister asking me to watch the same two movies over and over again.

During the week, I get up, go to work, get home tired and read a bit or watch an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer before passing out with exhaustion.

Our weekends have been filled with one project: Ray and Charlie.  Our friend Sarah wrote a short script about two guys and their names are (you guessed it) Ray and Charlie.  James was set to direct and I, laughably, was set to produce.  It felt like every spare minute outside of work was spent thinking about this project.

I got bored after the first weekend of errands and if it had been left up to me completely, we’d probably have sent a couple of emails, set aside a couple of props and said “Aw man this is HARD. Do we HAVE to make a movie? Let’s go get a puppy!”

James, though? He’s got this bulldog work ethic.  He has a momentum that drives him to chip away at big important things, long after they cease to be fun.  If I’m going to be honest with myself and this glass of wine and all of the webernets pointing a gun at me, then I’ll admit that his determination is what makes our relationship work.  His momentum pulled me along on this movie, but I did my fair share of whining along the way.  Things got busy at work, birthdays and traveling happened and I wanted so badly to quit.

But how do you quit when your coworker is your husband and the job is the dream he has for his life?

Last weekend I watched James make that movie.  I was humbled.  Impressed and humbled.  He was in his element and

oh,

oh, I wish you could have seen it.

He (well, WE… or, They?) made something beautiful.  I can’t wait for you to see it.  All of you.

I ran around and bought snacks for the crew and handed James water and pretzels when he started to look pale and tired.  But mostly I felt useless.  And somehow I’ll get a producer’s credit for buying snacks.

This morning, I started to get down about the whole cycle of things, again.  I started thinking “ugh, I’ve got to go to work tomorrow” and “wah wah, I want to go on vacation” and “oh, I wish I didn’t have to work hard for the things I want”…

and then today was actually a genuinely HARD day at work.  Whining aside, it was busy and hard.  And I sat down at my favorite restaurant for lunch and ordered a sandwich and sat down and looked as glum as I felt.

The 16 year old kid who works behind the counter sat down with me on his break and asked me if I was okay. We sat and talked about life and school and work and food for about half an hour.

And you know those defining moments?  The ones where you put 2 and 2 together and they don’t equal “purple” or “yes, but only on Wednesdays”?  2 and 2 are sometimes 4.  And today was one of them.

I looked at that kid sitting across from me who took his lunch break to talk to a stranger and I thought about that quote that Ferris Bueller says.  What is it?

“Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Sometimes it’s my kid sister is asking me to watch movies with her after school. Sometimes it’s a stranger who asks how you are and means it. Sometimes it’s going to work (and dealing with the some bad days but mostly good ones) so I can pay for food and rent and someday vacations.  Sometimes it’s my husband who’s dream it is to make movies.  Sometimes it’s getting a puppy.

But all of it adds up

and none of it is worth wishing away.

Washing Elephants

Yesterday morning as I was pulling out of my driveway, I realized my car was basically running on fumes. Already on the verge of being late to work, I had no choice but to stop for gas if I was going to make it there at all.

I pulled up at the closest gas station to the freeway (running over the curb on the way in) and screeched up to pump with enough time to put about $15 in the tank.

I was verging on indignant. Everyone was in my way. The machine was taking its sweet SWEET time (and mine) reading my card and giving me the “Begin Fueling” message. All the other drivers were idiots and it was the gas station attendant’s fault that it was even taking THIS long to put 5 gallons in my car.

Naturally.

As I stared at the ticking numbers telling me how much money was being ripped from my debit card, I noticed something moving and making noise on top of the pump.

I looked up slowly, afraid of what might choose to make the top of a gas pump its home.

It was a face. The face of Jake. Jake, of “Bodies by Jake”…
or at least that’s what the title under his face said.

On a flat screen television, placed where thousands of people wait for their tanks to fill up, Jake talked to me about time management.

And what were Jake’s words of wisdom? What was he taking me out of my haughty self-entitled mood to tell me?

Jake explained how simple it is to build muscle while you are on hold with your electric company, or mechanic. A model stepped into view holding a bottle of water and began to pretend like she was in line. At the bank, at the grocery store, at the gas station…wherever she was pretending to be other than a TV studio. Grinning. She stuck one leg out about a foot in front of her, bent the other leg and stuck out her butt as far as it could go. (Which, might not go so well in a line at the DMV.) Then she took the water bottle in one hand and gazed lovingly at her growing bicep as she swung the bottle slowly past her hip. Back and forth. Just smiling.

Am I supposed to do that? When I’m too busy to go to the gym, am I supposed to take all of this time I spend waiting in line, waiting for gas, waiting for cars in front of me on the freeway… to smile and wave a water bottle around?

I need to slow down. All this hurry-up is making me edgy and bitter.

I’ve been thinking a lot about something my dad used to say. Well, he still says it, but he said it to me all the time when I was younger. He’d ask me Hey Laura. How do you wash elephants?

And the answer is always the same: One at a time.

Which makes so much sense, doesn’t it? And this from the man who created the Redneck Screwdriver. Which also makes sense, but in a wonderful kind of offbeat way.

When you’ve got a few elephants to wash. A few big things to do. A lot of decisions to make. You can’t do all of them at the same time.

You have to take the time to do each thing right and well.

I never follow this advice. I feel like I’ve barely started one project before something else comes up that seems more important… so when I put down the first project, I forget about it… or it only gets done half-assed… three weeks later than it should.

Or, I’m in such a hurry to get home at the end of the day that I don’t fill up my tank to save myself time in the morning.

I’m not saying this means I’m going to stop tweeting in line at the grocery store.

But I am trying something new. As of yesterday, I’ve decided to wash all of my elephants one at a time. I’m going to try to instill patience in my actions and give each thing the attention it deserves.

When I eat, I’m going to savor each bite instead of hurrying and gorging myself and getting a stomachache later.
When I drive, I’m not going to cut people off because, well…. what goes around comes around.
When I talk to people, I’m not going to be thinking about what I’m doing tonight or next week or next year, I’m going to pay attention to them.

Because anything worth doing, is worth doing right. Right?

I’m probably going to need reminding to stick to this. Okay?

Something Extraordinary

When I was in first grade, I ran across the word “extraordinary” in a book my class was reading together.  I raised my hand to ask Mrs. Smith what it meant, and I remember vividly that her response was in the form of a question.

“What do you think it means, Laura?”

I looked at the word with uncertainty and broke it down like she’d taught me to do with other words.  A sandbox is a box with sand in it.  Bedtime is the time you go to bed.  If something is extra ordinary, then it must just be really really plain, right?

This morning, as I was walking in to work, I greeted our security guard John with my usual “Merry Friday!” to which he responded,

“One more week almost down!”

My heart sank in my rib cage just a little bit.  Another one down, huh?  Another week just like the one before it and surely just like many to follow.  This is extra-ordinary and not extraordinary. 

I don’t want to feel that way.  Ever.  Lots of changes are going on and life is exciting… but I still feel like I’ve just crossed one more week off my list of weeks to complete.  At the end of this week my parents get into town.  At the end of next week I get married.  At the end of the week after that, we get home from our honeymoon and then… what?  Back to work.  Back to routine.  Back to extra-ordinary.

I don’t want to be complacent.  I don’t want to accept mediocrity as a standard.  So I work in a desk job.  In order for me to see that as an extraordinary calling, I need to stop breaking it down into things like how much filing I’ve done in a day or how many emails I can get to in an hour or how many students I can assist. 

If I keep breaking it down like that, it’s just going to seem really really plain. 

The bigger picture is this:  every day I have the opportunity to aggressively engage in the lives of the people around me.  If I make a connection with a student or drop by Arline’s desk just to give her a hug or learn a new word in Spanish from Angel, those are the things that make a day great and my life worthwhile.

I’m fairly certain that working as an administrative assistant is not, ultimately, going to be my lifelong calling.  But if this is where God wants me for now, or even if He does want me here for the rest of my life, I need to make the best of it. 

So?  I will visit Macchu Picchu with my James and see the pyramids in Egypt with my sister, I will write Redneck Cookbooks with my Dad and brew beer with Abe… and if I’m a secretary at a Law School at the same time, then that will be awesome. 

I asked myself what I want my life to be about, and the command to love my neighbor is my answer.

I have become a dirty rotten liar

And the Kindle is my accomplice.

A few weeks ago, I decided to grab my Kindle and a cup of tea and just spend an hour alone during my lunch.

About half way through my break, a student walked by and sort of hovered over my table for a bit.  I was engrossed in what I was reading and genuinely didn’t notice him at first.  When I finally acknowledged him, I was honestly a little miffed. In my mind, if someone is sitting alone reading, it generally means they want to continue doing so without interruption.

I looked up.

“Hi!” he chirped, “reading anything good?”

He didn’t look familiar, and I couldn’t figure out why he’d cornered me like this.  What had I ever done to him? Did I cut him off in traffic?  Was he here to yell at me for not properly filing a request he’d submitted?  I looked down at the title of the book I was reading.  A Game of Thrones. Oh geez.  He’s going to think I geek out over chain mail and tooled leather.  Which, I do.  But that’s not the point.

“Um, its, uh…  The Unbearable Lightness of Being.  By, ehhhmmmm….”

“Kundera!”

“Yyyyyyyeah-es, yes. Kundera.” Oh crap.  What have I done?  I’ve never read The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I don’t even know what it’s about.  I just know there’s a floating bowler cap on the cover.  But the Kindle doesn’t have book covers…. so he would never know unless…  unless he’s read it and starts asking me for details about how I like it, etc, WHAT HAVE I DONE?  I should just come clean and let him know that I’m a Renaissance Faire loving, motet-singing, damask silk wearing freak of-

“I’ve never read that.  Is it any good?”

“It’s deep.  Real deep.”

“Hm.  Cool.” Awkward. Silence. “SO, do you like your Kindle?  I’ve been thinking about getting one.”

“Oh yeah, for sure, it’s fantastic!” This, at least, was not a lie. I’ve had a small love affair with the contraption since the moment I realized I could read 86 books at a time and only carry the equivalent of a light paperback around with me.  And, with the additional new discovery about being able to lie about what I’m reading, it just gained major points.  “My parents were really generous for my birthday last year and got it for me.  It’s… it’s kind of wonderful.” I gazed at it lovingly and hoped he would take that as a sign that we wanted to be alone.

When the guy finally got the hint, my break was nearly over.  But something truly valuable was realized as a result: I can lie!  And the Kindle is there for me!  We are Bonnie and Clyde.  We are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!  WE ARE SONNY AND CHER!

And now? Now I realize how lame my life is; I think that lying about what I’m reading is a daring and dangerous feat.

I think I need to go drink some mead.

(re)invention

In the midst of my melodramatic occupational crisis, an opportunity has arisen…arose?  arised… aroused… umm.  An opportunity has presented itself. (There it is.)  The inimitable Miss Becca has invented a something.  This “something” is special but not QUITE as special as Miss Becca herself who is so full of spunkiness and sass that once you meet her, you might collapse from an overdose of moxy.

I can’t tell you what it is, this project.  It’s not that I don’t love you, dear Webernets, or trust your unparalleled judgement regarding intellectual property, it’s just…wait…no, actually that is the reason.  But I’ll tell you that our experiment building the prototype for this invention was a success and began with a trip Joann fabrics.

Becca and I dug through piles of elastic and zippers and lace and fabric.  We drooled over vinyl and wrestled with bolts of cotton/polyester blends until they closed down the store.  When we got back to my place, we set up shop with a sewing machine and rulers and scissors and (oh, my stars) we made such a delightful mess.

I’ve never been fantastic at anything. I’m always an inch or two away from mediocre at just about everything I put my hand to.  When I encounter those people who have direction and purpose AND success in their careers, I feel something akin to envy….a feeling between envy and awe.

A few months ago, I met this woman who was built to be a lawyer.  She was poised and articulate.  Her hair was smart and shiny and bobbed above her chin and she wore a delicate cameo pin on the lapel of her suit jacket. Every now and then, just before she was about to say something profound, she would close her eyes, purse her lips, turn slightly to the left.   She would then suck air in through her nostrils with such determination that I was certain the following statement would be darn near divine.

I spent months in my job trying to instill in myself that kind of deep-rooted assurance.  But every time I closed my eyes and pursed my mouth to breathe in deep through my nostrils…I just felt like a poser.  The only thing I truly feel assured about at my job is changing the numbers on my date stamp every day.  I love that thing.  I like how I feel sure of myself when I tell a piece of paper what day it is.

As Becca and I worked and sewed and ripped out stitches and measured and re-sewed and talked and laughed and made mistakes and started again, I started to feel something oddly like direction.  Not in a grand-scheme-y  “Oh, now I know that I want to sew every day for the rest of my life” way, but in a very small “this is right for the moment and I want to see this completed” kind of way.

At one point, I was clumsily trying to turn a piece of fabric inside out with the end of a wooden spoon while simultaneously stuffing it with elastic.  I held it up awkwardly and had the following thoughts:

1) Huh, maybe Lady Gaga will wear this when it’s done.

2) Oh, she’ll definitely wear it if we put Hello Kitty on it.

3) I don’t even like Lady Gaga, what am I thinking?

4) How do I even know that she likes Hello Kitty?

And so.  Our business was born.  We’re going to make things.  And we’re going to have fun while we’re at it. Wearing cameos and cutting my hair isn’t going to make me feel any more sure about the passing days or how good I am at my job.  Neither will looking forward to changing the numbers on my date stamp every day.

If this takes off, then I’m never working in an office again.  Not unless there’s a zombie apocalypse and the safest place to defend myself against the undead is a well fortified office building with very few windows.  I guess I would consider fighting off ravenous flesh-eating monsters ‘work’.  I hope Becca is there and she can help me fend them off with my date stamp.

The shrink is on my side

Roy Orbison can…just…go suck on his big toe.  I got the wind knocked out of my sails a little bit at the end of the week, but that didn’t last long.

I had a conversation with a mentor at work on Friday.  She actually had some really great advice for me and suggested I talk to a ‘third party’.  In corporate speak, ‘third party’ means a shrink.  There is this deal they have worked out with a counseling referral system and any employee can get 3 free sessions per year.

For a moment (only for a moment) I was a little miffed at the suggestion.  But then I realized she was totally right. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone and get an outside perspective.  The only people I’ve talked to are friends and family who KNOW what I want to hear.

So I called the number on Sunday afternoon.  After a few minutes, the kind counselor who received my phone call was rooting me on, excited to hear that I was already taking steps to making changes to the situation.

“You don’t walk on train tracks just because they give you direction to walk in!  Eventually you’ll get run over by a train!” I reasoned with her. “WHY would I stay in a job that I KNOW is going to wear me down physically and make it impossible to do the things I love?  Especially when there are other options available!”

“That’s right!” she replied, as if it were the first time it had occurred to her, “Why WOULD someone do something like that?!”

“Hallelujah!”

“Testify!”

“Amen.”

Old fashioned-revival style, we cheered ourselves on and revved ourselves up in the possibility of change! I wouldn’t be surprised if I called back again today and she’d decided to go tend wombats in Australia or something.

For me…for today…It was back to the nine-to-six.  I’m doing my own thing and it turns out other people want to do their own thing too.  Maybe we should all do our own thing together.  Mischevious things are afoot.

OH!  I forgot to tell you about the experiment from Thursday night!  Expect that in the next installment.