Back to NYC

I returned to the city this past Sunday, and as of yesterday, Wednesday, I am officially no longer a temporarily remote employee. I have replaced that luxury with a new one, my car, which, as of the last two days, has been a delightful addition to my NYC experience. My morning commute took me 40 minutes both days, door to door. Not train to train to trek. It’s easy. I step outside of my place and greet my valet garage man, close the door, turn up the music, then fish through the east and west village to the Holland tunnel, and on into dirty Jersey. Life is just about back to normal.

For having a corporate day job, my work identity is similar to that of a rock star. As much as it can be in that kind of a setting. After nearly a 5 week absence, I practically got a standing ovation for returning, ready kickin’ and screamin’ for graphic requests. For a company of 1800 employees, they only have 2 graphic designers — me being the newer of the two means that I can easily be swayed by things like $125 spa gift certificates (which a vice president loaded me with just recently, along with 3 boxes of chocolate) or fresh and hot Dunkin Donuts Vanilla flavored coffee that a co-worker got and shared this morning, to replace the nasty trashcan grindings this $$$ company otherwise freely supplies for its hard workers.

What I’ve learned is that people have no problem sucking up here. Perhaps it’s genuine kindness. Perhaps they want me for my skills. Either way, I don’t care. Hook me up with chocolate, coffee, and things like spa gift certificates and I’ll do just about anything for you. Banner? White Paper? You can’t figure out how to cut a text box in word? Or how to delete a blur in Power point? Bring it here, my love. I’m all yours. Truly.

You know, and even better, the fact that they even allowed me to work remotely, after only having 2 months to prove myself worthy of such a thing. Granted I was sick, but now that my mature 25 yr old expectations are no longer driven by childish college-like naivety/ideologies (one huge lie), I can say with confidence that that is something worth appreciation…because it doesn’t happen all of the time. Because they could have cut my cord, called it quits, fired me, fuck you’d me like I would have been glad to do back in their face…if it came to that, of course…

All in all, my point is this: I’m back. Better than ever. Physically appreciative of having my physical health. Emotionally appreciative as well. Thankful for my parents for having supplied me with endless amounts of white meat chicken during my home stay, thankful for Sophie’s endless supply of Sophie love (my parents for not really enforcing her rules while I taught her to break them), thankful for my blockbuster and hollywood video memberships, Jack Bauer’s awesomeness and Chloe’s annoyingness, a nice clean Bethesda home without New York City germs, and every other chore my parents gladly took on, including laundry doing and folding, supplies supplying, care giving, etc. However all of that said, it is good to be done with mono. Or at least to be on the better end of it, able to look down and almost, just almost, say that much wanted “f you to my liver” I spoke of just a few weeks ago when this whole trip began.

Pandora

Pandora (www.pandora.com):

Pandora kicks ass. I idolize, adore, admire what they’ve done. I wish it were mine. I wish I could be a part of it. I wish their life could be my life.

Now if that doesn’t sound slightly stupid, or slightly silly, then I don’t know what does. Maybe doing what they do for a job for free? Well, yes, now there it is. And that’s why I love Pandora so much.

It is what I do for free, all the time, made into the perfect dream job.

The thought, or so I assume, behind it is this: It enables the listener to get to know other artists (musicians) we wouldn’t have otherwise known about. Now for freaks like me, who research musicians for kicks (like an A&R junky) and would rather do that than almost anything, it’s the perfect deal. And it’s simple. You type in the name of an artist, like lets say, for the sake of being generic about it, Dave Matthews — what Pandora does then, is it compiles a list of similar sounding musicians. For the most part, the musicians that’ll come up for an artist like that would be a whole bunch that the usual average Joe listener wouldn’t have known. For example, Dave Matthews might lead to Howie Day, Joseph Arthur, Patrick Park, Eric Hutchinson, Joe Purdy, maybe even Damien Rice, and I’m sure many others (if I had either of my Macs on me at the moment I’d look more up in my itunes). But you get the point. Sure, a boat load of folk know of Howie Day or Damien Rice, but rarely do you find people talking about Joseph Arthur, Eric Hutchinson or Patrick Park during their free time. And with that, it’s pretty obvious that the craftsmen behind this must have spent countless hours of unpaid time, putting these musicians together, matching them with each other, studying chords that match and sounds that are similar, voices that remind them of voices, lyrics that are written with the right kind of eb and flo, etc.

Now here’s what inspires me about it: Imagine, like I do, a group of 20 or 30-something yr old dreamers with their boring ass day jobs, probably spent pecking on keyboards for mr. man a’ la corporate, and now here they are…doing just the opposite. They took a risk and banked on something special. And whoosh, their hard work is paying off right before our eyes (ears). Everybody wants it. Everybody hears it. Everybody is gettin’ to know it.

To me, Pandora is the culmination of a dream (my own and theirs) come true. Passing along the artist that needs to be heard. The underground, underpaid passionista playing in subways in Boston, on the corner of Club passim with a jar for cash and beat up Guild.

Being Sick

the monkey of mono.

it’s like this vicious ghost. no cough. no runny nose. no blood or tears. just fatigue and wicked body aches you can’t quite explain. “yea, that right there, under my ribs. wtf is that?”

that’s me curled up in a ball bawling my poor eyes out, with my chest full of pain and my spleen and liver punching me from the inside out, laughin’ at me the whole way through, while my mom and dad feed me green jell-o and toast and take my temperature in between pops of advil. i’m getting quite acquainted with the sugar coating of that candy, let me tell you.

speaking of, i missed halloween. i mean completely. i didn’t even hand out candy. or consider a costume. i’m pretty much banned from having, or even thinking of having, any sort of fun for the next few weeks, months, however long this bastard is going to take till it get itself out of my system for good. then i’m gonna turn around, right on my liver, and say “f you sucka.”