dear diary... today I'm going blather on and on...

I always start out kind of slow on Thursdays. My boss only works Monday through Wednesday, so there's a kind of release of pent up "but I don't want to work"-ness. Plus there are a couple of other things contributing to my laze-malaise. One is that the things I have to do are not easily quantifiable — I need to figure some things out, as opposed to replace all the art in chapter three with hi-resolution pieces, etc. The second is that I have part two of my interview at Big Publishing Company today during lunch. I'm meeting the HR person and seeing Paul (The Man Who Would Be My Boss) again before sprinting back to work here. So, I'm a little preoccupied and feeling a bit like "Fffffh! I'm not even going to be working here in a couple of weeks." Of course, who the hell knows? I'm concerned with my less than stellar track record with my bosses in the past — who would I have them call for recommendations? I don't know. Ah well. I'll just be as honest as I can without making me sound like the petulant child I've been at times. (I do have to say that I feel like I've done a much better job here. Although my boss would probably have a few reservations about giving me a completely glowing review, I've charted a much smoother course here than any other workplace I can think of.)

Suddenly I'm remembering a day in college when I was on a bus heading to downtown Seattle. I was planning on going to the waterfront and maybe even a museum. I thought I could hole up somewhere and drink some coffee and write in my journal. Suddenly, horrifyingly, I remembered that I was supposed to work that day -- as I did every day. I got off the bus at the next stop and found a payphone (this is well before cell phones) and called. For the life of me I can't remember what I did. I either lied and said I couldn't make it in, or I said I was running late and that I'd be in as soon as I could get there. Knowing me, I'm going to guess I lied. Poorly.

In other news, further ripples from the slight boost in self-belief from the interview: I contacted my old job (who hadn't given me any new work on this season's list) and asked the Assistant AD if there was something I could do to get back on the "designers we use" list. An hour later, after a couple emails, he sent me a rush title that I've been working on this week. Reminder to self: ask. Don't think about asking. Ask.

And that's a whole other story, that cover. It's about genocide and why it happens. The photo research has been incredibly depressing and horrifying. Imagine looking at a couple thousand images of Rwanda and the like.

You look at these images as just pictures — partly trying to find something that could support being a book cover... a shot that has a good shape, etc. — but then, you stop and really look and imagine what it would really be like to be standing there among those dead bodies, littering the ground. You see the soldiers there — now, too late, protecting a child squatting on his haunches looking toward the camera, with a look on his face that seems peaceful — and you try to imagine what it would be like, having lived through such violence and terror and lawlessness. What would these soldiers, these photographers mean now? How could you ever climb out of that darkness that must have begun to eat away at your ability to feel safe, or to feel anything for that matter? How does something like that happen?

It's hard to pull yourself back from there and focus on designing something. It's too intense, and real, and I've several times felt like there were images I couldn't use because they were too nakedly ... personal. Not overly violent and gruesome (although there are plenty of those), but images that seem to invade the subjects "space" somehow, and would trivialize what they were going through.

It's been an interesting gig. I sent in a second round of comps today. These have gotten a pretty good response. We'll see how it goes.

Perhaps I'll post some of those attempts on here later.

tastes like...

It's amazing what a job interview will do for you. Sitting down and having two professionals in the industry loving your work and taking you seriously can be a nice shot in the arm. Suddenly, I feel like I should be getting more work. Suddenly, I feel confident in my ability to design. I wish I felt like this all the time.

So, I go in on Thursday for the HR interview. I'll see my prospective new boss then, as well.

In the meantime, a friend of mine was just on jury duty and befriended a man who was there with him and who turned out to be the President and Publisher of Large Publishing Conglomerate That You've Heard Of. My friend talked me up and the Pres&Pub gave him his card and asked him to have me contact him. I sent him a link to my website this morning.

Funny how this shit happens.

And yet, still, I am uneasy about this (as I always am about change) and wonder what it would mean to my writing self. I bought more notebooks this week, with the vague idea of filling them up with the projects I want to work on (book, tv show, movie). And yet, I'm not getting anywhere on any of those multifarious projects and don't feel I have the space in my head to really delve into anything creative as much as I want to. As much as I really, really want to.

I really, really, really want to.

But family first. More money would be fantastic. If I got and took this job at the salary I requested that would mean that my yearly take-home pay will have doubled in two years.

Still: these are eggs. No chickens have hatched. I am not counting them. Carry on.

quick, big chunk o' life

What a week it's been.

A week ago today at this time I was driving through Pennsylvania in the middle of a blizzard. After a twelve-hour trip, we finally made it to Michigan, where the skies were blue and the snow was safely already on the ground and melting.

The weather remained friendly until Monday morning, when it was time to head home. It took us over an hour to get through Detroit (normally a 20 minute trip) due to a fresh, heavy snowfall. I didn't think it was possible, but the drive through the mountains in PA was even worse on the trip back. There was more slush and ice, this time around.

After another twelve hour drive and a quick eight trips up and down the stairs to carry the loot into the apartment, we were back safe and snug in our apartment. Sadly, we'd missed the snow in New York — which I love.

Tuesday my hamstrings were tight and I was exhausted. I'd finally gotten through to this man I was playing phone tag with at a large publishing company. I'd been recommended by a friend to a guy who knew a guy at this company. I'd sent in an email saying "hello" and that I'd heard they were looking to fill a design position, and pointed to my website about a month ago. Lo, and behold, this guy was now calling me regularly, and we were playing phone tag.

The conversation took place in a nearby McDonald's (only place I could think to go and sit where it might be quiet). I told him I was at a Starbucks when he asked about the noise (which began about five minutes after I sat down). He told me about the position — which, it turned out, was an Art Director gig — and I did my best to disuade him from talking to me about it further. I explained my lack of a managing skill-set, and that I didn't have all that much experience designing the type of books they produce (business books and trade stuff). After a couple of minutes of this I told him I'd send my resume and the salary requirement he requested within the hour. I came back to my desk and IMed with a designer friend asking him what he thought would be a good amount for the job. We agreed on a number that seemed really damned high. But, continuing on in the "well, I don't think I'm really right for this job anyway" vein, I decided to ask for the moon.

Twenty minutes after my email went in, I had a message from him asking me to come in for an interview the next day.

Holy hell.

I waffled and hedged — I really, truly needed to be in at work (deadline for a project of mine, plus my boss was going to hand-off her project for her usual four-day weekend). I came really close to saying "I can't," but then a co-worker who is also planning on leaving to move to Paris for the hell of it next year said to me "you have to take care of YOU."

I called him back after work and said "Yes. I'll be there at 9:30 a.m." So this necessitated me going through my clothes — most of which I am now too fat for — and finding something to wear. Settled on my suit and a light black sweater under it (casual — no tie — but formal — suit) which actually fit me okay, still. I also had to find my portfolio and update it a little bit. And I had to lie to my boss. I used the pregnancy as an excuse ("Amy really wants me to go to this doctor's appointment with her tomorrow...") 9:30 turned into 10 a.m. and I didn't even get out of the interview(s) until 11:30, and back to Workman until noon.

It went well, I think. After realizing what getting the new job, and it's new paycheck would mean, I started thinking about actually doing the job, and then I started wanting the job. The man who I'd been playing phone tag with (and who would be my immediate boss) was my interviewer. He said I asked good questions. He loved my samples. He said they'd definitely hire me as a freelancer, regardless of whether or not I got the AD gig. Then I met with his boss. She loved the book. She loved that he said I asked good questions. She liked that we were having a baby, it seemed. And then I went to see the HR person. Filled out an application, but couldn't get in to see her — she was in another meeting. But we have a meeting set up next week.

To talk about what? Money, maybe. I'm not sure how this goes. Holy shit, I might end up with a real job. A real, honest-to-god if-it-works-out-I-could-be-there-for-years "career" kind of job. Holy shit.

What does that mean with the rest of my life? Writing? Fuck if I know. All I know is that it's a great job — everything they told me about the job and the company just got better and better — and it would solve a lot of problems for us if I got it.

So, the next day —yesterday—I was pretty worn out and had tons of work to do. Then we had our second Lamaze class, which included a tour of the facilities. It's getting more and more real. More and more exciting. More and more scary. Quite a year of changes. I'm looking forward to a night on the couch with my girls, catching up on some of our tv shows.

quick poker post

Poker Update: Going out of town in a mere 7 hours, and starting/finishing packing. Just wanted to get this down: game 7 — bought in: $50; up $3, total for the year +$126.

I felt good about my play. Other than getting involved in a dangerous Omaha hand that ended up taking between $30-40 from me (when I was up at the beginning) I made smart calls and folds. Still, I ended up with the second best hand a couple of times, and I didn't make a draw or two that would have helped me out immensely. But I was in with the right odds most of the time, I think. Battled back from about $10 total in front of me to end up above my buy-in. I'm okay with that.

Hope to get back to writing in here when we're back from Michigan. Or, perhaps I'll even post while I'm gone. They have the internet in Michigan now, I hear.

what i know = zero

This weekend was the first time that I've felt overwhelmed at the prospect of Ella's arrival. I'm not surprised, really. It's been percolating under the surface, I think. And, since I've started to actually get back to the gym and gain some measure of control over my eating habits (although we shared a piece of black & white cake last night for dessert that was unbelievably good) that the pressure would find another way out.

We were at Babies 'R Us and I felt somewhat blindsided by Amy's insistence we finish our registry there. I thought we were going to look at a few cribs and then move on. This would normally not be a big deal but I decided I was in a Bad Mood (helped along by low bloodsugar), plus shopping with Amy can be a difficult experience — she hates it.

Long story short, she was freaking out from the start and I got increasingly frustrated. How many shirts do we need? How many with side snaps? How many regular? Are onesies and jumpers the same thing? Why do they have x for 3-6 months, but not 0-3 months? Why does our registry list show everything as impossible-to-decipher acronyms and not have any complete WORDS? She kept asking me questions I didn't know the answers to and I got increasingly shrill: "I don't know."... I don't know, Amy."... "I. DON'T. KNOW!"

We got through it without any bloodshed, but it really hit me during our quiet walk to Buy Buy Baby, and then our quiet walk to the pizza place for a late lunch, and our quiet walk home: I don't know anything about little tiny babies, really. Or toddlers. Or children! I don't know anything about anything! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

So, that's fun.

That black & white cake sure was good, though.

watch me stop watching

So it has come to this: I only post in my blog after a poker session, to keep track of my play. It's not for lack of wanting to post — although it's not for lack of time, either. Things have been busy here at work, but I'm working without a bossorial presence, so could carve out a few minutes to throw up some thoughts if I really wanted to.

It's just that I am still being a fish in the water — plugging away and preoccupied by the day-to-day tail swishing. I had a very good IM chat with friend JTM in LA this week about desire and ability and butt-in-chairness (making up all kinds of words today) which has gotten me to at least take small step #1: I'm cutting way back on my tv watching time.

I definitely use the tv as a pallative. After a "long, hard day" at work I'm fairly beat. Add to that, hitting the gym a couple nights per week (which I actually did this past week) and my energy levels drop — at least that's the excuse.

So, I end up on the couch watching poker or some other show that we've DVR-ed and then, the next thing I know... it's 10:30. Besides, I learned years ago that watching tv and then switching gears to doing something creative is hard for me to do. It's as if my brain gets put to sleep and is hard to wake up — I truly am muzzy.

So, I'm cutting down on a couple shows (okay, well, one got cancelled — but the other one is a poker show that runs five nights a week) and on the number of nights per week I watch. Friday night is tv night, I think. We'll see how this goes.

I'm also thinking of trying to write in the mornings. I get up at 7:30 in the morning and don't leave until 9:00. I fill that time with a nice, leisurely bath and some email/web time. I could definitely make use of that 90 minutes and get about an hour of "stuff" done.

Anyway, onto the poker.

Poker Update: I got some cards last night. Pocket aces twice — both of which paid off (which is somewhat unusual), made some flushes, etc. But I feel pretty good about my play as well. I flopped the nut flush in one hand and slow-played and trapped Steve into going all-in. Worked beautifully. I didn't make any key lay-downs that I can remember, although this one hand with Jamie and Paul keeps running through my mind:

Small raises before the flop which comes up 3 4 10 rainbow. Jamie is first to act and bets $4. I figure he's either on a straight draw or has something like AK, AQ, AJ, KQ, KJ so figure my pocket 7s are winning and he'll go away with an overbet. I raise it to $10. Paul considers for a loooong time but finally folds (turns out to be pocket 6s). Jamie goes all-in, which would put me all in for another $20.

Damn. This is exactly what wasn't supposed to happen. I reconsider what I think he has. There are so few things I can beat in this scenario. What if he has A-10? Or any overpair. I fold after a lot of hemming and hawing.

Turns out he had that straight draw that I originally put him on. Trying to figure out if I could have put him on that. In retrospect I think he would have checked JJ, QQ, KK, or AA after that flop, for fear of chasing someone away. There were no flush draws and that straight draw was pretty unlikely (except that he had it, of course). A-10? He might have bet that, I suppose, but $4 into a $3 pot? That's chasing-away money. If he's chasing away, then he must not have a made hand. He must have had the straight draw. In which case... he had eight outs. With two cards to come, that means he had about a 33% chance of pulling his straight. Both of his cards must have been a 7 or below. He couldn't have had an A and still had the open-ended straight draw. I should have called.

Ah, well, maybe next time. But it's good to know that he'll play his draws like that. I wonder what he thought I had.

At least I've turned around the trend — two games ago I was stuck $100. Now I'm up over $100!

Game 6 — bought in: $30, up $60, total for the year: +$123