Well, if my office life is less than perfect, it's not too surprising -- don't most people talk about their job really just being a paycheck?
I have a feeling my time in Roanoke was unique: I grew up a lot between the time I started with the paper at 19, and the time Patrick and I moved to Knoxville, when I was 25. For that reason alone, the job in Roanoke would hold a special place in my life; not to mention that the people in the newsroom covered the spectrum, I developed friendships with many of them; and I did a lot of learning from a lot of people.
So I can tie that part of my life up with a bow and call it something very sweet.
Onto the present: If nothing else, I'm figuring out in Knoxville that life is everything other than 9-5. Or it can be. So I'm making it that. I've implemented this crazy plan that's actually been working: I wake up between 4 and 5 most mornings to do a bit of exercise and work on freelance projects. If I don't have freelance projects, the idea is that I'll work toward building my brand, so to speak; the thing that'll get me more freelance work.
That's the mission: Nurture freelance to the point that, several years down the line, I can make a living off of it (maybe just in time to stay at home and raise babies?).
I've often thought up crazy schemes like this, but one thing's different. Thanks in large part to Patrick's reasonable-ness, I'm willing to admit that this freelance thing isn't something that's going to just happen. I might be looking at years of hard work to make it happen.
So I've started breaking down those next several years. In doing, I've actually uncovered some exciting short-term goals that'll keep me inspired to work toward the long-term ones.
- I want to rebuild my web site. As in, ME building it. I'll design it, then beef up on CSS and HTML to make it work well. Luckily I have Patrick to keep me pointed in the right direction.
- Business cards! This is such a little thing, but it's been fun working on the design, picking colors, etc.
- Building up that portfolio: I want to supplement my newspaper and current clips with things like stationary design and little pieces of art. I don't know where these tiny projects will lead me, and some of them might die quickly, but at least I'll be creating something that might lead to something that will lead to That Thing, whatever it is.
That's just the short list. I'm excited to see how this grows.
I posted a question about my question on typophile.com, one of my favorite places to read designers' opinions. What they had to say was very encouraging, if not inspiring.
I still say my talent is Mommydome, but in the meantime (and thereafter), I might just have to work on this design thing.
Hello blog void. Time to close you up.
The topic at hand: What is talent, and what is skill? More specifically, how important is each when it comes time to fill the 40-hour work week?
I had this epiphany that might have been born of just a little bit of self-pity, but mostly I think it's dead on: I'm not sure I'm talented at design as much I am skilled at mirroring existing styles and making content fit.
So, that's not artsy, but it's something not everyone can do.
Is it enough, though? Will I just continued to be slightly disappointed that I lack the talent that I'd secretly like to have? Will that disappointment taint what I'm doing? Is there something out there that I *am* talented at?
I gotta wonder what that is. Patrick tells me I can write. I tend not to believe that, but you know, what's my opinion?
I think it'll be parenthood. Maybe it sounds funny, but I think there's talent in there. It's something I've wanted to do since I was eight. The way painters were really good scribblers in elementary school, I've always been very good at taking care of people. (When Mom was sick, I took her temperature and brought her orange juice.)
So there's that to look forward to. And really, it kind of makes sense. You know how writers pay the bills by working at newspapers, and artists bust their butts at coffee shops or ad agencies? My day job is just to pay the bills, my passion will be those years I get to stay home (helped by the money I bring in now).
OK. So I just had my epiphany. No more worrying about talent vs. skill in design, because that's not what I ultimately want to be dedicated to, anyway.
I can do a day job just fine.
So this freelance thing is some kinda work, but I like it. Some days I'm exhausted and hate it; other days I think it's nice to have this other thing I do to keep me fresh. And make more money. And give me a new reason to buy computer stuff. I need a bigger screen. Really, doing design work on a 12-inch laptop is ... cute. It's really cute. And not efficient or practical at all. So here comes a big screen for my desktop space.
It's also high time I start applying my extra money to some new clothes. Everything I have is too big, worn out or boring. I have about four or five pieces in my closet that I truly enjoy. And I wear them too often. Or maybe I'm just spoiled and need to get over it. Whatever, it's almost fall and I definitely need skinny clothes for fall. New, sturdy jeans, big sweaters, tweed skirts, boots, tights. I was made for this kind of weather. All my sensibilities were tweaked to enjoy cool temperatures and autumn colors. So in all that rambling what I mean to say is I absolutely must, must get clothes.
Must get back to freelance.
Mmm, I'm suddenly struck with the desire to be a really good writer. Like maybe if I want it enough, I'll just find myself being a really excellent writer. Not just a writer. Excellent writer.
So maybe I'll try that out.
In other (really important) news, I actually did the squares art project that I boasted I was going to do. I find it (of course) to be just a wee bit elementary. Maybe like, *not* real art. I'm going to push it and pull it and see where it goes. It's fun, anyway, to have something like this on the side to work on and maybe one day be really surprised by.
Work continues to go well. I'm not as good at some things as I'd like to be, but rather than feel really defeated by that, I'm going to just work and work until I figure out how to do those things really quite well. Excellently, even. It won't do to simply learn how to do those things, and then stop pushing them. I'm all about facility, agility, deftness.
Squares. It's all about squares. There's no way I could do the idea justice by trying to explain it in a blog. Or in any way, really. So when I get it done, I'll just have to post it.
I have a feeling this idea I have is the beginning of a lifelong hunt for the perfection of the evolution of squares.
So, Patrick loves Resident Evil IV.
I have a feeling I'll be learning new things about him all the time over the next 40 years or so. (50? 60? We *do* lead rather healthy lifestyles. Knock on wood.)
Anyway, so he ran out and bought Resident Evil IV for his Wii as soon as it came out. And he's been playing it about every day.
And guess what? I like watching him do it. I always liked watching my brothers play video games, but they were Mario or Zelda. Nothing quite so amazingly graphic -- his head gets ripped off on a regular basis. But it's a fun game to watch. Good story (kinda). Interesting bad guys. Really corny dialogue.
So he's playing it now. Gotta go see what's happening.
I've always been a big tipper. The first time I can remember thinking "Maybe I tip too much" was when I was in high school. I was sitting in a little deli that I'd gone to forever with my grandparents. This day, I was there to do homework and I just ordered a little basket of fries. I think they cost a dollar.
The woman who waited on me was so sour. I felt guilty. I felt like "Wow, this woman is unhappy, and here I am taking up one of her tables for a dollar tab." So what I did was -- despite her less than gracious demeanor -- tip her a dollar for her trouble.
Kind of like buying her loyalty to me or something. Because I figured if I came in again and ordered a basket of fries and she remembered "oh, that girl tipped me pretty good," she'd be nice to me. She'd seem a little happier about the whole thing.
I've basically done this over and over.
In college and several years following I sat in the same coffee shop for hours at a time, several times a week. I always rounded my tip up to the next dollar figure. Maybe even tipped a whole dollar. For coffee; that someone behind the counter walked a few feet to get. But I made friends with the baristas (even dated one for a short time). I got free cups of coffee and muffins when I didn't ask for them.
When I get my hair cut I tack on a 20 percent tip. Because next time I want my stylist to return the favor, so to speak.
So the point (as long as it took to get here) is this: I basically use my tip to help foster a relationship with the service people I come into contact with. I know they have hard days and long days and days full of crappy customers, so my tips are usually less a reflection of what they've given me that day than what I hope they will feel warmed to give me over the many more times we do business together.
It's a little backwards, I know. But I also tend to have really nice relationships, brief and shallow as they can be, with baristas and stylists and servers. What's it costing me anyway?
Well, money. But money's paper. Good feelings are something a little bit more.
When I get the chance, I'm going to try to write a little blog during my lunch breaks. Good way to break the day up. Break away from work.
Speaking of which: I can't remember the last time I felt so much pressure to prove that I'm good at what I'm doing. And mostly I mean prove to *myself*. It's kind of exhilarating. A little worrisome. Mostly I think it's this good friction that's going to eventually catapult me to a place that I didn't expect to land. And I still don't know what that place is. I probably won't until I've been standing there a while, and then I look around and think "when did this happen?"
I'll let you know as soon as I know.
OK. So I had big plans to post pictures of my awesome new haircut. I even *took* the pictures (so unlike me). But now I can't find the USB cord to get the pictures to my computer.
Anyway, the bigger point of the post was gonna be what good service I got anyhow, and for that I don't need pictures.
And let me say that by "good service" all I mean is that April (my new lady) cut my hair the way I asked her to.
That's all.
That's all I'd been after. But it took a solid year to find. In that much time I'd been to four people, none of whom gave me what I asked for. I even took a freaking picture to one guy. It was of a girl with long wavy layers with cute little bangs. And he chopped my hair off. Chin-ish length. It wasn't even a good cut in any technical sense -- one side was longer than the other.
Another woman -- she gave me a nice haircut the first time I visited her. Id' been so excited. So the second time I visited her I said "just do what you did last time. I loved it." And I sh*t you not, when the haircut was done she said this: "So, it's a little different than last time ..."
[Pause for sufficient exercise of frustration]
So when I visited April (at Aveda), I tried not to seem too wounded, but I let her know that I'd had some bad experiences, etc. etc.
Well dang if she didn't hear what I said. I spent twenty minutes in the chair. I was barely aware of having my hair cut. And when she was done, it was just what I was looking for. Then she said "Let's pick out a picture of what you want it to look like after your next cut."
I picked it out and it's neslted in my wallet, waiting for her to look at and say "OK, here we go!"
