craigslist best-of

My Women
I'd Like It Back, No Date Required
Will Not Separate
Door To the Future
We Live Together
Sponges
You Bit My Leg While I Was Passed Out and I Never Got to Ask Your Name

here goes...

I sat down with my superiors yesterday at work to tell them about my desire to move to New York. They were very supportive.

It's like getting on one of those ridiculously frightening fair rides, or on a waterslide, or what more adventurous individuals might attest skydiving is like. You get all full of anticipation in the time leading up to it (oftentimes anxiety in my case, as I am the constant worrier), but then you come to a point where you have to finally make the decision to jump. It was scary right before, but then you just have to take a deep breath and do it, or say it, as the case may be. And after making the decision, the jump, it's exhilarating. I took my coworker I work with most directly out to coffee and told him, and although the first minute was a little awkward, it's so great to have it out there, to have someone I'm close to on board with the plan, and not have to be cagey or unsure about anything.

Of course right now I'm just in that very first few seconds of freefall, which are all glory and excitement, the thrill of getting used to the idea that it's actually happening after all. It's not any logistics or work at this point. I'm waiting to start coordinating the scheduling and details of the transfer, but I'm really excited about the move. ...Of course, this is all contingent upon the office really truly wanting me after all.... I recently found out that the NYC office is very progressive in addition to being successful, and there are many more senior designers, and some very cool policies in effect there. So I'm hoping that the moving arrangements, and the salary adjustment will also be a good deal, and it will all be clearly the right move.

Of course it's hard, especially for me, to leave so much behind. To acknowledge that you are choosing to leave is a big deal. And though my friends, family, and coworkers have expressed that they'll miss me, everyone has been so supportive in agreeing it's a great opportunity. I think they have to counter my guilt in "abandoning" things. My concern was in leaving my project work, and closest colleague, behind. And though he acknowledged that it will take some finessing to transition my projects out (I serve a kind of unique role in a few of them), he expressed a lot of support as well, and it is such a relief to have that over with. I'll miss some of the privileges I've had in our small Seattle office, and definitely the great people, but I am very excited for the opportunities that await me.

Onward and upward! Yay!

Now I just have to get the NYC office to respond to me in a timely manner. They're pretty hard to track down, I've found.

Hopefully, to use the jumping-off analogy, I won't smack into anything on the way or toward the end. Should be a decent process, given the policy of the firm supporting movement between offices, and paying for moving expenses. And hopefully, unlike a slide, I won't end up at the other side with a wedgie.

the abstract home improvement

in the NYTimes, quite the concept...



_click_

no, excuse me

So I went and got a massage today for the first time at the athletic club, something I've been wanting to do for a while.

I spent some quality time with the ellipticals, and took a shower and met the massage therapist at the door in my towel. She was like, oh, are you Erika? (you book these things in advance so they have your name.) Yep. She asked if there was some specific reason I was coming in, and I was like oh, not really, though my neck oddly hurts from sleeping last night... so she's like, okay, sure. We'll look at that, girl who strains herself not by athletic exertion, but by laying on her ass...

And I think after that we were speaking completely different languages. I was pretty sure that when I first came in I indicated that this was my first time getting a massage there. She told me to put my towel on the hook, and lie down on the massage table, as she left the very lowly-, mood-lit room, furnished in pale wood and black and white pictures of pebbles, for me to ready myself. So I was like, okay, if everyone gets naked, no big deal. Up I went, after putting the towel on the hook. So she's like, ready? as she comes in, and is like "oh... go ahead and put the top sheet over you..." and then slips out again. Oh, lovely. Wish you'd have told me there was a top sheet earlier, so I could avoid having this turn into a Seinfeld episode. Everything was so beige, and so dark, it was difficult do know that there were even sheets on the thing.

I didn't care that much, really, was too looking forward to the massage to think about it much. But I couldn't relax as much as I'd have liked to, because the music selection was some new-agey Sting mix, which I had an impossible time finding restful. At one point I actually tried to make small talk, and I was like, oh, sounds like French Rap, as it seemed Sting had some Francophone rappers backing him up. I think the mix was kind of world-esque, and these dudes may have been North Africans or French-African. ...but I think she thought I said something having to do with "trap," as in the trapezius muscle, which apparently she was working on, because she starts going off about how people always call it the trapezoid, and how silly it is, but it's not worth correcting people... and I was extremely confused initially, but then didn't feel like pointing another weird mistake in my time there out.

So the massage, though somewhat disappointingly gentle and not as effective as I'd wished for, wasn't bad and finally came to an end, and she leaves and says it was nice to meet me. So I re-towel and leave, going back to my locker to dress quickly and head home for some dinner. I'm half-naked again and there she shows up, waving a ticket at me. Apparently you have to sign for the thing, but of course this wasn't mentioned to me - it was assumed that I'd know - so I sign, standing there, in my underwear, in the middle of the locker room as she hovers over me.

Now I can rationalize the occurrences by guessing that it's not as common to get people in for massages the first time, maybe it's mostly regulars who can afford to drop money on massages every week, but still, it's not that good of an excuse. They're going to get a newbie every once in a while, and we shouldn't all have to learn the hard way with our naked butts up in the air.

26 now, and falling apart

I somehow managed to sleep so wrong last night that I've got a horribly painful muscle/ligament/somethingorother going on... I've had this ridiculous Quasimodo effect going on at work all day. For some reason my head has to have the muscle in question extended or it hurts. You'd think it would be the other way around.

On top of that I'm stuck crouched over a table, hand-inking a drawing. I don't think that's good for the situation, with my head all kinked up, straining to draw my lines smoothly. It's not even an interesting drawing; it's a plan of a park set within a hydroelectric facility. It's full of fences and power lines and pipes. My eyeball is threatening to revolt and leap out of my head from the strain.

Hopefully the massage I'm getting after work (a splurge for me) will remedy the issue. If that doesn't, I might have to resort to more extreme measures. Like personally removing my own spinal cord, as I threatened to do to my coworkers earlier today in a splash of melodrama.

heavier things

another reason why war is not okay:

War Torn: New York Times' video on the disturbing effects of war on soldiers back at home.

and a NYT photographer's moving account from his years covering the war.

Engrish

if you've not heard of this website, engrish.com- it's pretty funny and intriguing.

...in a somewhat mean, but very comprehensive way.

Happy Birthday, Leo!

A friend at work sent me my birthday horoscope today. I don't pay attention to horoscopes regularly, but I enjoy them (when they're good, ha), and do find myself to be a bit of a characteristic Leo at times. It's a very flattering horoscope, but it's still somewhat eerily reminiscent of me. And it refers to me as a bon vivant! Score!

Happy Birthday, Leo! You have very capable hands and are eager to work obsessively hard for goals you're passionate about. Your hands may be uniquely expressive, adding emphasis to your words and facial expressions. They may also be extremely skilled, artistically or technically. You're a true spokesperson for the vibe and mood of your generation. You reflect and translate what has great importance to your peers. In fact, until you put your inimitable spin on things, the message hasn't been transmitted colorfully or earnestly. Your ability to explain, illustrate and mirror others' thoughts and feelings makes you an amazing mouthpiece for your generation. People identify with you. They're thrilled that you seem to immediately understand what they're feeling. Some of you write poetry, songs or stories. Like allegorical tales, your stories have layers of meaning - a richness that satisfies most listeners. Because music is nearly as important to you as water and air, you enjoy listening to it almost all the time. Many of you are experienced musicians with a pronounced ability to transfix an audience. You hate to wait for happiness, gratification and recognition - but waiting may be part of your karmic lesson. You may have to work harder than many of your less gifted colleagues to reach the pinnacle of success and accomplishment that you dream about. If your dream is worth having, then isn't it worth waiting for? You have an incredible visual sense. You can spot beauty, quality and up-and-coming trends before others catch on. You prefer earthy, more primal expressions of beauty than something carefully calculated or contrived. Attracted to sunny locales, bright colors, warm people and gourmet foods, you’re quite the bon vivant and adore Mediterranean ambiance. You also prefer generous portions of anything you enjoy. For example, you are more enchanted by a big house than a small one, or a big diamond instead of a diminutive one. Bigger is definitely better in your book. Because you detest being trapped, controlled or told what to do, you tend to learn the hard way, particularly in your rebellious youth. Once you feel more centered and less defensive, you're able to listen to others' suggestions - but will never willingly take orders from anyone.

but will never willingly take orders from anyone. This is truth. Sadly, sometimes I have to fight the urge to do the opposite, regardless of rationale, when someone orders me around.

Minus the part about me needing big things. But I do need nice, quality things, so it's a little right.

You may have to work harder than many of your less gifted colleagues to reach the pinnacle of success and accomplishment that you dream about. Ugh. I was hoping this was just a phase I would pass beyond and then have easy success and a relaxed existence. Sigh.

Ooops, no sighing allowed on my birthday. Woo!

déménager

Well, I've been somewhat vague about it for months and it's getting to a point where it feels silly anymore to not be completely clear.



I'm leaving; it's time for a change. I really love Seattle, and I'll come back, but things feel a bit stagnant. I will miss everyone here very much- I have a lot of great people I'll be leaving; but life in Seattle the past couple years hasn't been fabulous (though I'm not intimating that there haven't some great times), so I'm turning over a new leaf.

This sounds kind of like a breakup letter to Seattle.

Seattle, we're not breaking up, we're just on A Break. And I will always, always be faithful to you. I will never, ever believe that any other city has more intelligent, humorous, though down-t0-earth citizens. I will never praise any other town's espresso over yours (well, american towns- we didn't invent it in the US, after all). I will never be convinced that there is any other city that has as stunning natural surroundings, and so close to the metropolitan area. If I do, you can write me off at that point; I am not deserving of you. But I won't, so don't give my seat away.

If you've not heard me belabor the point already, you may ask... where? What place, what city, what locale are you embarking on this affair with?

Good question- I'm not entirely positive. I'm not sure which is my better option, but it's looking like New York City. Paris is still in the running, but my options might be better in NYC. Not only do I have a good job assured there, but I have some very good, close friends in the city who would be my instant support circle.

However, anyone who knows me knows my longstanding love affair with France, especially Paris. It's my goal to get myself there at least once again to spend a significant amount of time in the city of lights and cheese and love and Amelie, and I'm not getting any younger. New York might be a stepping stone to Paris, really, if I end up there first, so why not go straight there if I can? I've found a couple of very interesting firms in Paris.

There are a lot of reasons to go either way, really. My friends aren't going to be in NYC forever. Having a guaranteed job in NYC, and likely my moving expenses paid for, is an opportunity that is good as well and won't be around forever. After all of the difficulties of the past couple years, I'm hesitant to isolate myself in a new career/culture/language so far from my support circle and what I'm familiar with. However, I do want to settle down and get married/have children someday, and I kind of view the moving and the long-term international as something that will slow down if not end when that time comes, so I can't stretch this out forever. I'd like to eventually raise my own children here, and as much as I am impressed by those who have children later in life, I don't want to have my kids past thirty-five. I argue with myself about what I need at this point- how cautious, how exciting, how independent, how brave do I want to be in this move?

(If you're coming Friday, feel free to give your thoughts.)

In all respects, I'll be leaving in October. Yes, cats and all...I might be leaving the left coast, I might be leaving the country. It's very exciting. Turn On The Bright Lights.



At some point I'm going to have to tell my bosses and coworkers this. Which isn't an exciting thought.

cat infestation

who, me?

I was very proud of myself this morning- I got up a little early, got out of the house a little early, and was sitting calmly on a bus when I got an unknown-number call. I picked up to the sound of my apartment manager trying to talk over a howling cat.

That was my cat, and I was sitting on an express bus headed the opposite direction of the howling cat. "Um, do you have a black cat?" politely asks my manager between wails. Kitty was locked in the lobby. The perpetrator of the heinous crime this poor little creature was suffering from came off as being me, but is actually herself. That little beast is a weasel.

Her brother is a tiny bit of a weasel as well, he has a couple quirks (obsessive clawing of packages of paper towels, sliding along the hardwood floors using the upholstery of furniture as leverage included), but she is a serious weasel. She barks for water from the tub faucet if you so much as turn the direction of the bathroom. She sits on the countertop in plain sight. She eats houseplants. She bites off the ends of anything skinny- drawstrings, qtips, shoelaces- and worst of all, she is an escape artist.

When we lived in our little house on the top of the hill she'd escape outside and it would take hours and many food and toy jingles to get her inside sometimes, with the hiding and the dashing making it quite difficult. Here she doesn't get far, as the front door only leads into hallways, but it's never fun to chase a cat, belly on the ground and neurotically disoriented from the identical-looking doors and walls without windows, around and around in the hallway in your pajamas after taking the garbage out, only to fear running into a neighbor and looking like a buffoon. Or the best is when the cat is not realized to have disappeared until a neighbor brings it to your attention with a polite knock. She is such a weasel that she can escape when you think it's unlikely, and then disappear into the labrynth of hallways until you're back inside again.

Granted, she's a little bipolar, she's never aggressive and is very affectionate and cute and will fly through the air in performance, so that works to her advantage, keeping me from throwing her out. Everyone loves a soft, cute, kitty.

Soft, cute, weasel kitty.

beijing

I, like many skeptics, have been somewhat hesitant to embrace the olympics. Between the commercialization and the controversy this year with China's environmental and human rights/political controversies, I found the entire situation to be a little unsettling.

However, viral circumstances caused me to cancel my plans tonight for a date with kleenex and remote, and I ended up planted in front of the 2008 Olympics opening ceremonies.

I cried. I oohed and ahhed. I vowed to go to China. I've never been all that interested in going to China, but those ceremonies made it seem pretty kickass.

Though I do have an odd weakness for on-screen sentimentality, the presentation of the ceremonies was really phenomenal and well thought out in its own right. China is at a very crucial time in its development as a modern country, and it's really interesting to see how they choose to present themselves as a culture and nation given all that they're dealing with.

The ceremonies were stunning- a great show of firepower, technology, and artistry. Fireworks, dancers, LCD projections, people on cables flying through the air- it had the elements you expect, but were unusually uniquely and well-woven together with impressive artistic and technical craft. It told a story about China's history and culture and its future role in the world.

What I really liked, though, was that for as "westernized" as we say China is becoming, this wasn't just a big generic happy show overlayed with silk and calligraphy. There were impressive undertones of significantly Chinese nature- the repeated scenes of 2008 (in quantity) perfectly-synchronized dancers, drummers, and martial artists all spoke loudly of the traditional significance of the group in asian cultures, and of communism. Opening with the many many drummers was so intense it was intimidating, but it was entirely fascinating to see those incredible group scenes operate en masse with such military precision. There was also a clear message about the children being inheritors of our legacy and environment, which was kind of poignant. In my interpretation, the way that the designers choose to tell their story is a fascinating statement about the culture in itself.

As a sidebar, one of the scenes was when they had 2008 people come out onto the floor with parasol-like contraptions that expanded into these big round photographs of faces of smiling children from around the world. Sounds kind of cliche, but it was pretty cool in reality, and of course, made me cry.

Of course, as a designer who works in Asia and other foreign locales upon occasion, I thought the whole design element of the production was fascinating as well. I've found that the Asian aesthetic oftentimes tends to be much more bold and colorful than those of most western cultures. A lot of our design packages going off to or being done withinin China or Korea end up looking like Fantasia to me compared to the stuff we do here in the Northwest, so I was curious to see how the presentation played out. It was certainly bold, and very colorful, and very impressive, but it was really well done so as to not be excessive or gaudy, while still being notable, and I was impressed. Just the design of the new stadium, the Nest, as it's being called, is amazing and iconic.

My sketchy memory may work to my statement's advantage, but this seems significantly more notable than any other Olympics design or presentation before. It's a momentous point in China's history, and they're really trying to live up to it.

Now if only they will use that momentum, and implement the magic they're able to work in pyrotechnics, fancy LCDs, and rhythmic determination into their air and water quality management soon, and stop bulldozing ancient traditional homes for giant high-rises, and let the poor Tibetans decide what to do with themselves, and...

I've decided...

this is my theme song (or at least one of them), for now (at least until I turn 26 in a few days)...




Not that I've been whoring myself out. :) More the part about change.

imminent birthday

come join at Linda's, 8p, friday 8-15.

want to see you all... that's right, every last one of ya'.

music worth mentioning

Music can be fuel ...for the spirit, influencing mood and perception; and sometimes fuel to just keep moving... . Here's what's keeping me going most recently, or since I last dumped my faves into the blog a few months ago.

The National- as I wrote recently, twice, I'm totally addicted to their stuff. Lead singer Matt Berniger's baritone is super super sexy, and the quality of his lyrics is excellent, too- touching in both deep and simple ways. Their songs, I think, are an interesting blend of intimate, personal moments, and deeper references to socio-cultural angst (touched on in the Pitchfork review [link].) Their newer album, Boxer, is my favorite so far. Though I like all the tracks, my favorites are Slow Show, Brainy, and Fake Empire. Boxer Pitchfork review here.
Alligator, their previous album, is good too, and although it feels as though the first 60% is stronger, I really like the first track, Secret Meeting, and All the Wine:

I'm put together beautifully
big wet bottle in my fist, big wet rose in my teeth
I'm a perfect piece of ass
like every Californian
so tall I take over the street, with highbeams shining on my back
a wingspan unbelievable
I'm a festival, I'm a parade

and all the wine is all for me
and all the wine is all for me
and all the wine is all for me

I'm a birthday candle in a circle of black girls
God is on my side
cause I'm the child bride
I'm so sorry but the motorcade will have to go around me this time
cause God is on my side
and I'm the child bride

and all the wine is all for me
and all the wine is all for me
and all the wine is all for me

I carry the dollhouse, safe on my shoulders
through the black city, night lights are on in the corners
and everyone's sleeping upstairs
all safe and sound
all safe and sound, I won't the let psychos around
all safe and sound, I won't let the psychos around

I'm in a state, I'm in a state
nothing can touch us my love
I'm in a state, I'm in a state
nothing can touch us my love

The Kills- in their newest Midnight Boom: catchy beats, scratchy guitars, and edgy, sexy vocals; a spunky girl band that may make you tap out a drumbeat on your mousepad. Enjoy the youthful sexiness, and don't look for the meaning of life in the lyrics. Pitchfork:

Stylish, sexy, and simple, the nouveau-garage clatter of the Kills has magnificently sat on a line between base and brilliant. They've traded in a bluesy, overdriven sleaze that's served many a duo well in recent years, blurring the edges between their tandem vocals, staccato guitars, and vintage drum machines.

Am I the only sour cherry on your fruit stand?

The Fitness- combine angsty, sexy, sometimewhat whiny vocals with atari-esque electro sounds, synth-ey beats and infuse it with energy and you get the fun, very danceable sound of Seattle's dance-punk outfit The Fitness. I enjoyed their newest album, "Call Me For Together," very much and quite regularly while training on the cardio machines.

Architecture in Helsinki- Architecture in Helsinki's sound- airy, youthful vocals on top of light, and peppered with peppy electronica and horns, makes me think of futuristic children's TV. The Australian band's eight-person Sophisticated, musical, teletubby-esque, happy, innocent, gender-neutral, scandinavian-esque PBS (It is 5, off their In Case We Die album, is made for Sesame Street... Count von Count, anyone? Waaaahn eendie heepster, twoooo eendie heepsterz... AH HA HA HA HA!!!). I digress. Their character flits about between sounds, styles, and emotions for our distracted, ADD child-selves and is deliciously fun. My musings likely make little sense, but this does not change the fact that AiH's music is good stuff. Check it out (whether you have or haven't heard 'em on the Sprint commercial)

Death Cab for Cutie- I've been a Death Cab fan since mid-college (2002ish, let's say). They've put out a lot of good stuff. A local band, they've gotten big in the past year or so, but the celebrity hasn't apparently spoiled them. Their new album, Narrow Stairs, is different- more melancholy (the 8-minute haunting-but-beautiful I Will Possess Your Heart is, after all, about a stalker), I'd say, but really great as well. My favorite off the album is Grapevine Fires-

When the wind picked up
the fire spread
and the grapevine seemed left for dead.
And the northern sky looked like the end of days,
the end of days.

A wake up call to a rented room
Sounded like an alarm of impending doom.
To warn us it's only a matter of time.
Before we all burn
before we all burn
before we all burn
before we all burn.

We bought some wine and some paper cups
near your daughter's school when we picked her up
and drove to a cemetery on a hill,
on a hill.

And we watched the plumes paint the sky gray
as she laughed and danced through the field of graves,
there i knew it would be alright
that everything would be alright,
would be alright
would be alright
would be alright.

And the news reports on the radio
said it was getting worse
as the ocean air fanned the flames.
But i couldn't think of anywhere i would have rather been
to watch it all burn away,
to burn away.

The firemen worked in double shifts,
with prayers for rain on their lips,
and they knew it was only a matter of time.

Cut Copy- the Australian group's electro-pop is hard not to enjoy. It's fun and catchy and melds pop and rock with the electronic to make the music palatable to a wide audience and not just those of us who appreciate Frenchey-technoey sounds. A good summer album. Pitchfork review here

The Notwist- I find that the Notwist are hard to sum up. A little minimalist, with clear, calm vocals, layered over an indie-electro sound, the melancholy sound that the Notwist produce is unique. With a complex sound, it seems that even when the beats and sounds are peppier, the Notwist maintain a certain level of melancholy, somehow- between the unique, calmly restrained tone of Markus Acher's vocals, the persistent, sometimes stark beats, or the complexly woven, grainy electronic tracks. Somehow, even when the beat feels poppy, I always find the Notwist's sound beautiful in a sad way. Their new album, "The Devil, You + Me" is pretty introspective and melancholy, a decent follow-up to their epic 2002 album "Neon Golden."

Ratatat- catchy instrumental electronica. Will likely make you want to do some tiny dancing in your seat (if you aren't forced to go a step further and get out of the seat). Good rhythm... always makes me think of things being produced in factories. I haven't gotten quite as into their recent album, LP3, as I am into their previous two (haven't really played it as much as I could, however, keep getting distracted by The National), but their stuff is way good. I listened to the first album, endlessly on busses over Italy, so now when I hear it I envision passing through endless rows of grape vines. Could be way worse things to come to mind.

Styrofoam- Though a little more electronic, Styrofoam is a little Postal Service-esque in my mind (they do have ties to eachother, I hear). More indie-electronica for those of us who can't soak up enough, but the peppy bleeps and bits and synth-y vocals have a catchy appeal.

Hot Chip- Similar to Cut Copy, Hot Chip has a catchy, danceable electronic sound, though a little less pop and vocal melody, and a more little variation of the influences for their sound. Hints of hip hop, and more simple vocal-heavy ballads as well.

Portishead- So a funny thing happened a few months ago. I was wasting time at Ladro when one of the barista's mixes pulled up an old Portishead track. I've been, over the past six months or so, going through a music-regeneration phase- trying to re-acquire music I've been into in past epochs of my life but have no longer. Part of this may be attributed to the demise of computers loaded with Napster/Limewire-laden tracks, and part to album-keepers leaving my life without bestowing me with digital copies of the tunes I became accustomed to hearing with them. The demise of Portishead in my life can be attributed to the former; I listened to a lot of Portishead and Morcheeba late at night in my first apartment on my laptop in the early years of design school until the unfortunate cord-tripping incident sent my poor Compaq Presario flying across the studio, never to emit more than an error screen again. Alas, Portishead went by the wayside until a year or so ago when I thought hey, I should get their album again... and then, of course, my poor memory needed another concrete reminder a few months later in the cafe- and when I crossed the block to Easy Street, brought the album to the cashier, low and behold they mentioned that a new album is coming out. What? Ten years since they've put out an album and when I finally get to the cash register there's another coming out right away? Crazy.

Sadly, I am not as into the new Portishead album as I wanted to be. Third just doesn't catch me the way Dummy or Portishead did. I like downtempo music quite a bit, but something about the new album doesn't have a hook for me... though this new album is chill, the tracks don't feel as sexy or intriguing as Sour Times, Glory Box, or Roads. Maybe it's because it has a more minimalist character, or is a little more muted and melancholy; though I like those qualities in many artists, it's not what I'd order from Portishead. I'm not saying it's bad, I like The Rip quite a bit. I dunno; I was thinking that the ten years would yield something epic, and it's not hitting me as epic (though some claim otherwise, I recognize this). Maybe in 2018.

a gem

I'm reading the new york times in bed, marathon-style, recovering after wearing myself out at a friend's wedding last night.

I flipped through a slideshow accompanying a review of a new camera and came across one funny slide with a hilarious caption and had to share.

(click for the NYT slide) ...keep in mind that this is the New York Times, and not some kid's puny little blog.

My type of photographer.

cheezburger du jour