The Space Between

I joke that I have been a total waste of a human being this week and, as you know, most of my jokes are based on truth.

When Andrew changed jobs in May, he went to Ireland for a week. What did I do? Well, first, I had a wisdom tooth removed (sounds like an equal trade there, right?). I figured this would really make me a waste of a human being for a while so I made no plans for the days following. Turns out it was no big deal, so I've gone to the opera, taken a flexibility class, cleaned, read, and spent lots of time playing Civ IV and cuddling with my adorable kitten, who likes to sleep and watch TV as much as I do. With only two days left, I'm worried that I'm not making the most of this time. I'm also having a hard time convincing myself that I'm really not going back to NYCO on Monday.

So, to help me part with my old job, I hope you all (yes, all 2 of you who read this blog) will humor me with a trip down memory lane as I sum-up my favorite accomplishments at NYCO.

• I wrote the NYCO blog from January until October 30th
• I managed the youtube, facebook, and myspace pages, including elements of their design and all the content. Yes, that list of youtube videos featuring the Muppets singing opera was all me
• I produced all the videos and podcasts we made. My favorite one is the Don Giovanni behind-the-scenes video (so hot!)
• I survived working in a basement...of a construction site...with my desk in a hallway for the better part of two years

It's nice to know that among the tasks that disappear as soon as they're finished, like customer service and processing bills and all the minutia of the job, I have a body of work I can point to and say "I did that." I'll tie these up with a little bow and know that they're there when I need to remember the cooler aspects of working at an opera house.

So now to look forward. I have lots to do before I'm ready to start at Patch on Monday, not the least of which is filling out the rest of my starting paperwork and making sure I have respectable clothes to wear (it's amazing how much your standards slip when you've got construction workers walking past your desk all the time). I may find the time and energy to go dancing or take a dance class. I'm blocking myself from Civ IV today but the kitten looks awfully cuddly....

Something Wiccan this way Comes

More than ten years ago, I became a witch. Now, the next logical question for anyone who's ever seen the Wizard of Oz is, "well Chrissy, are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

My answer, which Dorothy would never have given Glinda, is "that depends on how you're measuring." You see, I'm the Wiccan equivalent of the Christian who only goes to church for Christmas and Easter, or the Jew who skips the fasting holidays but observes the feasting. Most of the time I don't know what phase the moon is in, I don't grow lavender for luck, and I certainly don't cast spells wearing nothing but a pointy hat, but of all the religions I researched all those years ago, Wicca made the most sense to me. By that measure, I guess you could say I'm a bad witch (though by no means, I hope, a bad person).

Samhain approaches. It's the Wiccan new year, though this is not why it's so important to me (after all, I forget half of the holidays during the year). It's important to me because it's my new year. October is always a time of transition in my life and this year that is especially true. Andrew and I have gone through our first year-and-a-day of marriage, which was more of a milestone to me than I allowed myself to admit at the time. I'm transitioning careers. I feel older and maybe I even dare say wiser this year. I feel like I'm growing up in ways I can't quite measure or express, but I know they're there.

This year we're celebrating with a Twisted Tea Party (think Alice in Wonderland). Though we've got lots of fun twists to go with the theme, as in years past, I'll serve apples and meat dishes, setting a place for those I've lost, I'll light candles and read people's fortunes, and make a resolution for the new year. It's going to be a great time.

The reason Wiccans celebrate Samhain is because we know that as the days get shorter and the harvest is reaped, next year's life is already getting started. Wicca is full of symbols that understand the dual nature of things, that life and death or darkness and light are not opposites, but two sides of the same coin. I can feel my life churning in ways I don't yet comprehend, but change is happening. I can't wait to meet it.

Patching Up

For professional reasons, I haven't been able to write about a huge part of my life for the past few months. I've been looking for a new job, applying to lots of different companies (none in non-profit) in the hopes that I could take another step in my career even with the economy the way it is. Guiding me along the way were my loving and supportive husband, my family, a few friends, and the book Can I Wear my Nose Ring to the Interview? (which I highly recommend to my friends in the job-hunting trenches). Reality exceeded my hopes when I had not one, but two job really awesome offers to choose from, both coming in on the same crazy Friday that made it almost impossible to focus on my work.

On Tuesday I accepted a position as Associate Product Manager for Patch.com, a web startup that I've continuously tried to explain and failed, so here's a quote from their About Us page:

Simply put, Patch is a new way to find out about, and participate in, what’s going on near you. We’re a community-specific news and information platform dedicated to providing comprehensive and trusted local coverage for individual towns and communities. We want to make your life better by giving you quick access to the information that’s most relevant to you. Patch makes it easy to:

• Keep up with news and events
• Look at photos and videos from around town
• Learn about local businesses
• Participate in discussions
• Submit your own announcements, photos, and reviews

The site is starting out small but plans are booming, so it's the perfect time for me to get on board and try a new challenge. In addition to all the assumable and obvious perks of switching jobs, I will also finally be out of the NYCO basement and into a top-floor office in SoHo. My new boss and coworkers seem awesome and I can hardly wait until November 16th to start.

A Night In

I have been very busy lately. Of course, how else would you expect me to start my first post since August? The biggest tug on my free time has been the community theater production of Candide I've been in. I started to say "I've sold my soul to community theater" because it took up so many nights of my week that even Andrew started to forget what I looked like (ok, slight exaggeration, but he certainly began to forget what it was like to have someone buy groceries and make dinner).

I've been singing in the ensemble of the group and covering the roles of Cunegonde and Paquette, which means I now have one heck of a "Glitter and be Gay" that may not see the light of day any time soon (feel free to request it at parties...with a pianist present...after I've warmed up and before I've had more than 2 drinks). For the most part, this experience has been a lot of fun, but after months of rehearsals, and now that we're heading into our second of three weekends of performances, I'm eager for the end and the return of quiet nights in.

Last night was just such a night. I took the opportunity to work a little late (payback after getting out early so many nights for the show) and came home to a pretty ideal night. Andrew cooked dinner, we took care of some household stuff, and then snuggled in bed to watch Miss Potter with a cinnamon candle burning (my favorite) and a kitten curled up at our feet. The movie was better than I expected (I hadn't expected much, to be honest), Andrew fell asleep before the end, and I was in absolute heaven. I'm looking forward to more nights like this to get me through the winter.

Can dancing give you whiplash?

Apparently, it can. My dance instructor kicked my butt yesterday. After learning a snazzy section of Fosse's choreography to "Sing, sing, sing," my entire body is aching. Well, not my entire body, just my neck (ahh, Fosse whiplash) and my legs--if only I could live in a world without stairs! The rest of me is exhausted, but feels a little leaner and meaner. I also found that I could bend and stretch more after 6 weeks of dance classes than I've been able to do since last summer, when I was doing movement 5 mornings a week.

There are certain activities, like dancing and singing, that I tend to abandon every time I get low on free time and money. Whenever I do pick them up again, I feel like I've woken up from a long, grey sleep, and the little girl that used to sing into her hairbrush while dancing around her bedroom shakes her head at my surprise at how easily these activities come back to me as if to say, "well...duh." The odd thing is that this cycle happens so frequently, I pretty much always feel as if I'm slipping into that sleep or shaking it off. You'd think I'd wise up and actually make the time and the money available to keep these activities in my life so I don't feel that way, but both can be so hard to come by sometimes.

What activity would you pick up again if you had an extra hour or two in your days and more dollars in the bank?

The road not considered

"Let's give it a try"

I don't think I say this phrase enough. I'm too used to being one step ahead of the conversation, to thinking of reasons why something might fail, why a course should be chosen or averted. I'm not always good at strategy (I'm very easy to beat in chess) but I am good at imagining results of certain decisions. Where I lack this insight especially, is visually. I watch HGTV in awe at the designers who can take an old barn and turn it into a palace. If you were to ask me to mark-off a 3-foot square on the floor I would probably end up with a 4.3-foot trapezoid. It's actually quite pathetic.

Last night, Andrew and I rearranged our living room to incorporate a newly-acquired dining table and four chairs. We started by talking about what we should do but, in a rare moment of personal insight, I said "I'm never going to know until I see it. Let's just try things out." The first attempt was the most difficult. We put a table here, the couch there, and it looked bad. Fortunately, we were ready to tackle the problem, so when Andrew suggested something else, I said "let's give it a try." I probably uttered that phrase more often last night than I have in the entire summer as we arranged and rearranged until we were satisfied (and the pizza came).

The result surprised me. Not only did we end up with a fantastic living and dining area, but that spirit of being willing to try pervaded the whole evening. We were more open-minded in our conversations, better listeners, better at trying to express something, failing, and trying something else.

So though Robert Frost may have taken the road less travelled by when they diverged in that yellow wood, I like to imagine that, were I walking with Andrew, he might suggest going off the path entirely, and that I might say "sure, let's give it a try."

Actions

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.
―William James


I subscribe to Real Simple's "Daily Thought" email. Every day, first thing in the morning, a quote like the one above wings its way to my inbox to amuse or inspire me. I loved this one, especially paired as it was with this picture (any subtle hints to my husband are purely coincidental), because it reminded me how often I take my own actions for granted. And it got me thinking; how would I act if I was always aware of the difference my actions could make? I tried this today and here's what I've come up with so far today:

• took a few extra minutes this morning to give my kitten undivided attention rather than shooing him from my computer's keyboard. Difference: It put a smile on my face and he seemed to enjoy it.
• took out the garbage and recycling in preparation for our trip. Difference: Now I don't have to ask my husband to do it tonight and I'll come home to a better-smelling apartment.
• sent an email out to my fraternity telling them my plans if elected president of the alumni association. This going to take a big belief that I can make a difference, because I want to implement some pretty significant changes.
• wrote back to some of the people who have emailed or facebook messaged me because I always feel a little odd when I write a friendly note to someone that goes unanswered. Difference: maybe I've averted a friend's sense of awkwardness at my non-response
• used my lunch break to get a bikini wax and pedicure in preparation for the beach. Selfish? Absolutely. Difference in my mood and sense of self: immeasurable (plus such a good feeling meant the woman who performed these services got a great tip).
• focused on my posture while walking today (my new dance teacher has me thinking a lot about this) Difference: I feel more attractive and more confident. This feeling will inevitably bleed into my interactions today.
• Responded with more friendliness and generosity of spirit to my typical customer service issues: people wanting free tickets, vendors wanting us to use their services, and complaining customers. Difference: Much friendlier responses than I usually get and potentially good karma for my company.

Something I'm noticing now that I'm reading through this is how dramatically my choices affect my experiences. Of course that's logical, all of our actions are going to affect us the most, and then those closest to us, and then those we encounter, and so on and so on, but it's nice to know that I'm not as much at the mercy of fate as I sometimes feel I am. Maybe I don't have the power to change the world today, but my actions can still make a difference to those around me and in my own life.

What would you do differently if you were more aware of the difference you make?

Letting the Music Back In

Hello music, it's me again.

I know I've left my Ipod dormant while reading on the subway in the morning. I know I haven't been putting you on when I'm lounging around the house or when I need a distraction at work, but I've had my reasons.

I've never been a music-in-the-background kind of girl. The concept of putting music on just to ignore it has always escaped me...what's the point? If I'm not singing or dancing along I have trouble putting it on (or maybe the reverse is true, I have trouble not singing and dancing along when I put it on). I never knew that the biggest sacrifice of giving up my car to live in New York would be the loss of the perfect, private space to blast a good song and sing at the top of my lungs. Now my life is often noisy and often crowded.

But I haven't been keeping you out to spare my neighbors or my husband or even because I'm too busy. The real reason I've kept you out is that I haven't been doing much for myself lately, and in my mindset of getting from day to day I've been missing the larger picture of what I need to be happy.

I need you, music.

And last week, I found you again. My friend encouraged me to go out for an audition for Candide at a locale theater troupe. I put off preparing an audition and almost didn't go, but at the last minute I pulled something together, marched out the door, and after three hours of listening to other auditions (and about 4 million renditions of "Poor wand'ring one"--all dull as hell) the music was flowing through me and the high E-flat I'd worked into the end of my piece happened effortlessly. By the time I got home, the floodgates were open again. I pulled out every musical theater anthology I owned and sang every song I knew until about 1am. I sang my husband to sleep, and then I kept going. I haven't gone a day without singing since.

Welcome back.

The Right to Mourn (what's not right to mourn)

Every weekday I flip through Metro NY for my dose of the news on my way to the real reason I pick it up: the soduko and crossword page. This page also tends to have room, just across from the horoscope, for an op-ed piece. One of the columnists writes for the Daily Show and I read his pretty regularly, but the rest I can do without. Today, columnist Clark DeLeon echoed the cries of the rest of the media that's obsessed with Michael Jackson's death by telling us that who we should really be mourning is Farrah Fawcett. This reminds me of when the media covered the news of Princess Diana's death 24/7 for about 2 weeks, all the while telling us we were bad people because we should have been clamouring to mourn Mother Theresa, who died at the same time.

Media hypocrisy aside, what really bothers me about this is that there is some assumed right and wrong about mourning someone or something. When I was in high school, my grandmother and my dog died in the same week. My grandmother was in her eighties and I saw her 2-4 times a year. My dog slept next to my bed every single night. You can guess which one broke my heart.

I don't believe that there's a bottom line of personal tragedy which can be reached by adding up the sum of our experiences: Let's see, add two points for regular contact, subtract one for bad qualities, add 3 for tragic and sudden reason for demise...
...it doesn't work that way.

Although my will to live was not crushed by either Farrah or Michael's passing, if I had to mourn one of them, it would be Michael Jackson (and that's a pretty big stretch). After all, as a child of the eighties and not the seventies, I haven't had much to do with Farrah. Michael, on the other hand, has been in my musical vocabulary since I was old enough to listen to the radio. I still blast "The Way You Make Me Feel" when I need a pick-me-up and if the radio stations would ever stop playing "Thriller" these days I might be able to go back to enjoying it once a year on Halloween as most members of my generation do.

So if you want to mourn the death of Billy Mays as loudly as he used to sell OxiClean, go right ahead. I won't tell you you're wrong.

It's (not) my job

Probably the most frustrating phrase you can hear when you're looking for a little help is "it's not my job." Suddenly, the boundaries of someone's job description become so absolute that the person in question cannot act against it to lift a finger to help you. If you're lucky, this phrase gets the add-on of "Sorry," as in "Sorry, it's not my job" which means that the person would help you if they could, but oh shucks, the world is too clearly defined into categories of "my job" and "not my job" and the universe will be thrown out of whack if they test that. Sorry.

"No, it's alright, I don't need you to hold the door while I carry this heavy box through it, I'd hate to overturn the natural order by making you do something that's not your job. Thanks for saying 'sorry,' though, it really makes me feel like you're not at all an ass and are in fact a terribly well-intentioned person bound beyond your own strength but an all-too-confining job description."

The only phrase more frustrating than "it's not my job" when you're an underling with 30 bosses is the exact opposite. Suddenly, you can't even staple a piece of paper without someone asking why you didn't get their permission first, since overseeing stapling is their job and how dare you step on their toes to make that decision. The most frustrating aspect of this problem is that this is the moment when job descriptions suddenly become so elastic that the person in question (and your 29 other bosses) can stretch their job as far as they like to argue any excuse to oversee whatever it is they want. Never mind that two other people already claimed that it's their job to oversee proper staple consumption and office equipment usage, what matters is that the person in front of you suddenly also has a line item in their job description about correct angles of staples on the page that now means they should have been in on the staple decision from the beginning and next time you should know better.

It sounds confusing, I'm sure, to navigate your way through this rather mutable environment, but I have figured out a quick guide for said underling to know where you stand:

--If you don't want to do it, it's your job

--If you want to do it, it's not your job.

I'd wish you luck, but it's not my job. (Sorry)

My Personal Heaven

Based on the numerous times I've uttered the phrase "I'm in heaven" in the past few weeks, I can now imagine that my personal heaven would contain, at the very least, the following:

• A picnic on a sunny day


• Fresh fruit


• A library of books that I could read without interruption - best with sunny armchair, fireplace, and couch.


• A kitten amenable to cuddling and purring (this goes well with the library above)


• Andrew


• Talented musicians who actually enjoy playing/singing for the fun of it


• A home in Brooklyn Heights


• A highway, a fast car, and good music blasting


• A comfy bed that I don't have to get out of unless I want to


• Root beer floats


• A dance floor, a good band, and a room full of partners (but especially Andrew)


• A garden I don't have to weed


• A glass of merlot


• ...make that a wine cellar (it is heaven, after all)


• Friends and family, especially the ones that make me laugh

The Other Side of the Job Search

April is showering, the weather is getting warmer, and the time has finally come for me to sit down to the stack of applications in my inbox and hire our summer interns. This will be my third round of selecting interns and supervising them, so I'm very comfortable with this process by now. With the economy the way it is and so many of my friends applying for jobs right now, I thought I would give you a little insight into my own preferences and biases as I sift through applications. Maybe some of your future employers feel the same way.

How to Make Your Resume Land on the Top of the Pile

1. Include your cover letter in the body of your email
When I open your email, that's my first impression of you. If you say "Kindly refer to my attached resume and cover letter" you have already blown your chance to make a good first impression. You're counting on me to be curious enough to click on the files and open them (in what order?), and you haven't given me any reason to be curious. Sure, if you have a gorgeously-formatted cover letter, attach it as a file, but don't ONLY attach it as a file. Format the letter like an email (no headers please) and send it along. This will highly increase the likelihood that I'll read it.

2. Keep your cover letter short
If you can say in one paragraph something interesting about yourself, your background, and why you want this job, I do not need more. The longer your cover letter, the less of a percentage of it I will read--after 1 or 2 paragraphs I'll start skimming.

3. Show me who you are
Rather than summarizing your work experience (the whole point of your resume) use the cover letter as a way to turn yourself from a pile of applicants into a person I may want to get on the phone. Make me smile, impress me, or just show that you're qualified and seem like you'd be a nice person. Let the resume do the rest.


4. Be clear that you know the position you're applying for
This seems obvious, but I've read a few applications that seriously make me doubt that they know even what department they're applying to. Read the job description and, without quoting it at me, show that you know what you're getting yourself into.


5. Have a 1-page resume, please
I have yet to see a 2-page resume that is actually packed with relevant information. If you are under 30, you should have a 1-page resume. Your guiding keywords should be relevant (85-90%) or interesting (10-15%). For the record, I do not find a 10-line list of scholarships and honorary societies at all interesting and they are rarely relevant.

6. Tell me why you're qualified
Whether it's in your cover letter or resume, it is your job to tell me why you're qualified for this job. Here again, the keyword is RELEVANT. For internships, I expect a lot of people will just be starting out in this field with little experience, but that's all the more reason to draw from whatever experience you do have.

The musician who wrote to me saying that her singing background meant she'd be a good marketing intern did not rise to the top of the pile. The one who explained that his hours in the practice room and attending concerts have developed a passion that's motivated even through thankless work...he got an email response immediately (and, sadly, had already gotten another internship. I’m not surprised). The latter drew that connection for me and the former did not.

7. Fix my problem
Do I want to give a person a leg-up and an opportunity to grow and learn about themselves and the job market? Sure. Is that the reason I am going through all of these resumes? No. Spend less time telling me about how I can help you, and more time telling me how you can help me. Are there things you know that will save me having to train you (skills)? Do you have some experience or some wonderful personality that's going to make you a good fit for our office?

8. Explain your experience
You have put your formal title on your resume, and written some beautiful-sounding vagueness like:

Supported the marketing campaign

I still have no idea what you did or what you're capable of. You may think whatever you've done is trivial, but success is in the details. Why not:

Supported 4 different members of the marketing campaign with tasks that included: managing excel lists, calling clients, researching our campaign on the internet and social networking sites, and writing copy.

Suddenly I know that you can handle multi-tasking and prioritization, you're capable with office software, have been trusted with customer service, and you're willing to take a stab at writing copy. Whether or not I'll need you for all those things, I may need you for some of them, and that's a lot better for me to know. Is it longer? Yes. But I'm sure there's somewhere else you can cut to make that fit.

9. Proofread
My coworker and I howled last year when an applicant accidentally put another organization than ours in her cover letter, and, sure enough, had “detail oriented” in her resume. Sure, she apologized, and everyone makes mistakes, but do you want to stand out in someone’s memory as the one who made a mistake? There is no excuse not to proofread your stuff (and have a friend help you, too).


10. Be honest

If you’re not a good writer, or “detail-oriented,” or amazing at Excel, don’t claim that you are. Don’t try to be what you think I want, be exactly who and what you are. A woman in a master class I took once put it really well:

If you’re an orange, be the best god damn orange you can be. Don’t try to be an apple just because they’re looking for apples today. It won’t work and you’ll make a terrible apple. Maybe tomorrow they’ll be looking for oranges instead, and then you’ll be the first person they call.

I do frequently pass on resumes that I think would be better fits elsewhere in my company.

11. Have a friend Scan your materials
Give a friend 10-15 seconds to scan your materials (each) and ask them what they noticed. If it's not what you want them to come away with, change your formatting, edit, or re-write your materials to suit. Try this on a few friends that you trust. I will give your resume more time than that, but make those first 15 seconds count.

Good luck!

Some Whimsy for Your Day

A colleague of mine passed along an article in the Huffington Post about the video below. It reminds me that no matter how stressed-out I may be, or rainy the day is, I need to keep some sillyness in every single day or else I get way too serious.

Putting aside my general loathing for most things Sound of Music (I sang the role of Maria in high school and still occassionally twitch if I hear "the Lonely Goatherd"), this video was exactly what I needed this morning.

The View From My Bed

Even before I had blinked the sleep out of my eyes on Sunday morning, I knew I wasn't in Manhattan anymore. Through my uncurtained windows I could see a patio surrounded by climbing vines and overgrown greenery. Add to this idyllic scene a squirrel running along the brick wall and a bird flying across and you have what is now my back yard. I am now a Brooklynite.

Andrew and I had probably the smoothest move we could have imagined. On Saturday morning we were so well-prepared, we even had downtime to eat breakfast before the movers arrived. By 3pm we were completely out of Manhattan and completely into Brooklyn. Our movers somehow managed to defy all laws of physics, gravity, and logic by getting our furniture to fit through corners that should not have been possible. Some friends came over on Saturday night to help us unpack and welcome us to Brooklyn, and by Sunday our apartment actually looked like a real place to live. We're thrilled.

We still don't have curtains up and we may not cover our back windows since they're the main source of natural light to an otherwise dark ground-level apartment. I actually find that it's easier to wake up now that the grinding and pounding of construction has been replaced by birdcalls, and the first thing I see every morning is a green garden that's all ours.

Enough Rope

"Give a man enough rope and he will hang himself" ~Proverb

How often do you hear "you saved my life?"

Well, quite often, come to think of it. Any time you do a small favor for someone you're "a life-saver," or at least that's what our age of overstatement would have us believe.

Yesterday, I stopped a man from walking in front of an oncoming bus. He was completely absorbed in texting while waiting at the crosswalk and once he saw a car pass in his periphery, he must have figured he was good to go. I put my arm out to stop him and even then he took a couple more steps before I really stopped him. By this point, the bus was close enough that, had he continued walking, it would not have had time to break. When he told me "you saved my life," I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't as much of an exaggeration as it usually is.

I don't think it would have been possible for me to stand at that crosswalk and NOT stop him. I responded on a purely instinctual level, and that that particular instinct makes us act unwittingly to help other people is one of the better parts of our evolution.

That instinct is also why it is sometimes very hard for me to keep my mouth shut when I see people are doing things that are ultimately going to hurt them. There are a few people in my life right now that, for all I would actually like to see them fail, I have a hard time resisting the urge to warn about their behavior.

I use the quote above as my reminder that more often than not, people need to be given enough rope to do with as they will--unless they're walking in front of a bus.

All Abuzz

Hello dear void,

I've been all abuzz lately with lots on my plate and even more in my head. While I take a bit of time to sort-out the pictures and stories I want to share, I thought I'd give you a little appetizer of my recent train of thought. Here is a video one of my Brothers shared with me today that I absolutely had to pass on. Enjoy!

Homer was slightly off

The great philosopher, Homer Simpson, once said:

"Here's to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems."

Though I may someday dedicate a post to the validity of this quote on its merits, today it makes me think of another aspect of my life: my Fraternity.

Most of my faithful readers either know about or are in this wonderful organization which has been providing service to music communities across the country for more than 80 years. I'm very proud to be a Brother and much of the past 8 years of my life has been defined in some way by my involvement with it.

This morning I was driven up the wall by the actions of a number of my Brothers. I would almost believe it if someone told me there is a conspiracy to make my last three weeks as a National Vice President difficult just so I'll feel better about retiring.

But, like with Homer and alcohol, the best solution to my frustration with Brothers is...Brothers. A few IM chats and phone calls with people I am lucky to have in my life have reminded me that I wouldn't know them at all without this Fraternity. I'm amazed that it's after 6pm, I'm still at work, and I consider this to be a good day.

So thank you, my Brothers: the cause of, and solution to, half of my problems.

Happy Re-Discoveries

Sometimes I think my Ipod's random-play option is just a means of reminding me how much crap I have stored away "in case I ever want to listen to it." Some days, though, it manages to remind me of some of my favorite, long-lost or recently-neglected songs.


Here are some of the ones that made me smile today:

Is She Really Going Out With Him - Goldfinger
Love me Tender - Norah Jones and Adam Levy
The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson
Head Over High Heels - Carolyn Dawn Johnson
I Would Die For You - Jann Arden
Singing in the Rain - Gene Kelly
Stray Cat Strut - The Stray Cats

What's in a Name?

Andrew and I have rented a new apartment. Starting April 1st, we will officially be Brooklynites. We're thrilled to have found a place away from the constant construction surrounding our current apartment, and we're eager to test out a new neighborhood. The only problem we have sharing this news to the world is that we can't pronounce our new address:

We will live on Schermerhorn St.

Drawing on our knowledge of German, Andrew and I both started pronouncing it ['sher mer horn], but since it's actually a Dutch name, and is one of the older Streets in Brooklyn, it is also pronounced ['skEr mer horn] and ['skIm mer horn]. (Anyone who took diction classes with me will know that it's killing me not to use IPA). We have no idea which way is "right," and even our broker pronounced it two different ways when we were signing the lease.

I knew I would need to find some difficult word to spell in my basic information ever since I dropped my maiden name, but I've never been in a position where I can't pronounce the word to begin with. Still, there's time to settle this before we're packing up and heading across the Brooklyn Bridge. Maybe I should put it to a vote.

The Downsides of an Open Door Policy

I'm having lunch at my desk. I normally don't, but I'd rather write and eat my Lean Cuisine (flavor, not dieting) than go out and be tempted to spend money.

My coworker thinks I'm not here. She must. That's the only way I can justify why she and another person in my office are having a discussion about their sexual pasts without so much as lowering their voices. I now know way more about either of them than I care to (especially now that I've heard them reminisce about the 80s). I know I should plug in my Ipod, but it's like watching a bad accident in slow motion--I can't turn away.

The Black Swan Tips for Living

Another blog I follow highlighted this list from The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. Although I don't agree with all of them, it's a fun-enough list to share.

The Black Swan Tips for Living:

1. Skepticism is effortful and costly. It is better to be skeptical about matters of large consequences, and be imperfect, foolish and human in the small and the aesthetic.
2. Go to parties. You can't even start to know what you may find on the envelope of serendipity. If you suffer from agoraphobia, send colleagues.
3. It's not a good idea to take a forecast from someone wearing a tie. If possible, tease people who take themselves and their knowledge too seriously.
4. Wear your best for your execution and stand dignified. Your last recourse against randomness is how you act -- if you can't control outcomes, you can control the elegance of your behavior. You will always have the last word.
5. Don't disturb complicated systems that have been around for a very long time. We don't understand their logic. Don't pollute the planet. Leave it the way we found it, regardless of scientific 'evidence'.
6. Learn to fail with pride -- and do so fast and cleanly. Maximize trial and error -- by mastering the error part.
7. Avoid losers. If you hear someone use the words 'impossible', 'never', 'too difficult' too often, drop him or her from your social network. Never take 'no' for an answer (conversely, take most 'yeses' as 'most probably').
8. Don't read newspapers for the news (just for the gossip and, of course, profiles of authors). The best filter to know if the news matters is if you hear it in cafes, restaurants... or (again) parties.
9. Hard work will get you a professorship or a BMW. You need both work and luck for a Booker, a Nobel or a private jet.
10. Answer e-mails from junior people before more senior ones. Junior people have further to go and tend to remember who slighted them.

Take that, World

Yesterday wasn't a bad day; I was being praised at work, I was productive (always a good word in my vocabulary) and nothing was really wrong besides the tedious meeting near the end of my day and my body's ache from skiing this weekend. Still, as I made my way through the crowded subways home I was irritable and tired. I imagined walking in the door, hugging Andrew, and then promptly going to bed.

I did not expect Andrew to have a bouquet of flowers waiting for me, or a dish of red hots set out for me with a card he'd written, or a load of laundry whirring away in the background. (I know I'm a bit over-domestic when laundry is just as sure a way to my heart as red hots). In the second it took me to walk over the threshold from the outside world to our home, my night had completely changed.

We celebrated a belated Valentine's, complete with takeout and a movie (Paris, Je t'aime--which we both love).

Usually the cartoon above reminds me that doing things for other people is a way of getting back at the world's casual indifference to you. By making someone else smile, you've shown that you're not at the mercy of whatever life throws your way. I think Andrew was having a bit of a "Take that, world" evening himself. Lucky me.

A Clean Slate

Dear Void,

This is not the first journal I've kept, or even the first blog. This is a fresh start because I desperately need to dust the cobwebs off my writing, have a little fun, and have room to be silly. I make no promises for the quality of the entries that will follow or that they will contain or avoid any of those key life details--I just need to write.

I think it's funny that I'm opting to do this publicly rather than in the comfort of my own paper and pen. Perhaps it's because I prefer to write into a familiar void, an empty space that in my mind contains the friendly faces of loved ones and amiable strangers--or perhaps I just hate the feeling when my hand cramps from too much writing.

Either way, Dear Void, thank you for reading whatever may follow.