It was a week or so prior to college graduation and in an effort forged by fear, naivety and steel will determined to “stick it to the man” my friend, “BP” and I found ourselves at the Borders off of Mill Avenue in Tempe late one night. We were on the floor, nestled on the carpet in various yoga-like poses and surrounded—literally—by book after book on how to start your own business. We had pens in hand, paper on floor, and we were lost among the titles, among our dreams, completely unperturbed when customers politely stepped over us to get to a neighboring shelf. We were euphoric on waves of motivation and want but faced those whimsy things armless, sans tools and knowledge.
In the coming months we graduated. We got jobs. We worked 8 to 5 and 9 to 5 and everything in between. We found comfort in a steady paycheck, climbed the so-called ladder and then…
“This is it?” we asked each other, one night over wine in San Francisco. “This is what it comes down to? Living in Arizona and working a regular job and….what about everything else?”
And so we went at it again, this time smarter. Slower. More thoughtful.
This summer it’ll have been a year since BP and I clinked champagne glasses to starting our own business together. It will have been one year since we had 3 a.m. negotiations with a man in Europe, fighting fiercely over the price of a domain name we told ourselves we needed. It will have been a year since we created databases, resource lists, reached out to a Web developer. It will have been a year since we once again opened up those new business books we bought late that night in Tempe, nearly five years ago. A year since we talked copyright law, logo creation and brand. Created FAQs. Brainstormed over brunch with mimosas and laptops.
It started off slow and then something—and I’m not sure of the what or the why—happened and now it’s this daily disease of emailing back and forth. Sneaking research time here and there at work. Afternoon texting of inspiration and the flicker of bright ideas. The pooling of resources and the mutual respect and the underlying hum of faith that we can do this.
Somewhere within the slum of this economic downturn and the daily drivel of my job, which has become robot-like and often sits in my life like a molding fruit, I haven’t been this happy with my “work” in a long time.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
My LA List just got bigger
Since moving to Los Angeles about a year and a half ago, I've strived to cross off a thing or two on my "LA List" at least once a month. So much to do here, so much to explore.
But who knew--Los Angeles has 87 neighborhoods!!--and this map doesn't even count neighborhoods that I "count" like Little Tokyo and Larchmont.
My list just became super-sized.
Check it out.
But who knew--Los Angeles has 87 neighborhoods!!--and this map doesn't even count neighborhoods that I "count" like Little Tokyo and Larchmont.
My list just became super-sized.
Check it out.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
A collage
A collage of thoughts, images and memories from the past few days, past weekend.
The view of West Los Angeles as I left work on Friday, the crisp dark night air in my face and a city of sprinkling lights before me. My new roomie’s face lighting up in the kitchen as she unloaded groceries, when I asked her if she wanted to go grab a drink. The bartender I hadn’t seen in about two months saying hello and sending over several rounds of drinks, “These are on me.”
The hum and chug of the washing machines and Infatuation’s now-familiar voice on the phone. Sitting in a car parked in red on busy Lincoln Blvd to get some of the best damn Italian sandwiches I have ever had. Traffic, never-ending traffic, in Santa Monica. The drive up to Malibu on the famous PCH with the windows down and sun filtering through my dirty car windows. Eating those “best damn sandwiches” pool-side at the Getty, as though we lived in Florence thousands of years ago, and I ate passionately and had mustard at the corners of my mouth. Sips of wine in the soft sun.
Kneading of pizza dough and simmering of the sauce. Early evening naps, let the dough just rise! Vibrant toasts meant for a summer’s night. Quick phone calls, reaching out like spider legs to the LA network to see what the dark night might bring. The walking to the bars, the gibber-gabs, the shenanigans and the crowding of asses on benches and in booths. Silly declarations of adoration, profound musings and late night secrets.
Errands in Westwood, wine sales and the purchasing of fun home accessories like glasses and candles. The scrubbing and cleaning that Sunday often brings. More hum of laundry and more kneading of the dough—pizza number two!—the gentle placement of pepperoni slices, the soft grating of cheese. A quiet night of a sentence said here and there, the glow of the computer screen, the clacking noise made by my blinds as the gentle evening breeze sauntered in.
Monday morning chaos and 8 a.m. conference calls. Need caffeine. The quick walk three blocks down to the Starbucks on the corner where they’re starting to know my usual, “Skinny latte?” “Please.” The tensing and untensing of shoulders and growling of the stomach. Margaritas and wine late-night at a taco joint catching up with an old friend. Pear tequila underneath an electric pink glow. A familiar smile and unfamiliar stories.
5:30 a.m. wake up calls to do THE STAIRS in Santa Monica. The huffing and puffing and groaning of the body at dawn, working and pumping underneath an orange moon, lazily hanging above the Pacific. 9 a.m. conference calls, too-sweet Chinese food. Leaving of work satisfied and accomplished. An evening jog through Brentwood with close friends in the lavender light of the magic hour.
Oh, the joys of daylight savings.
The view of West Los Angeles as I left work on Friday, the crisp dark night air in my face and a city of sprinkling lights before me. My new roomie’s face lighting up in the kitchen as she unloaded groceries, when I asked her if she wanted to go grab a drink. The bartender I hadn’t seen in about two months saying hello and sending over several rounds of drinks, “These are on me.”
The hum and chug of the washing machines and Infatuation’s now-familiar voice on the phone. Sitting in a car parked in red on busy Lincoln Blvd to get some of the best damn Italian sandwiches I have ever had. Traffic, never-ending traffic, in Santa Monica. The drive up to Malibu on the famous PCH with the windows down and sun filtering through my dirty car windows. Eating those “best damn sandwiches” pool-side at the Getty, as though we lived in Florence thousands of years ago, and I ate passionately and had mustard at the corners of my mouth. Sips of wine in the soft sun.
Kneading of pizza dough and simmering of the sauce. Early evening naps, let the dough just rise! Vibrant toasts meant for a summer’s night. Quick phone calls, reaching out like spider legs to the LA network to see what the dark night might bring. The walking to the bars, the gibber-gabs, the shenanigans and the crowding of asses on benches and in booths. Silly declarations of adoration, profound musings and late night secrets.
Errands in Westwood, wine sales and the purchasing of fun home accessories like glasses and candles. The scrubbing and cleaning that Sunday often brings. More hum of laundry and more kneading of the dough—pizza number two!—the gentle placement of pepperoni slices, the soft grating of cheese. A quiet night of a sentence said here and there, the glow of the computer screen, the clacking noise made by my blinds as the gentle evening breeze sauntered in.
Monday morning chaos and 8 a.m. conference calls. Need caffeine. The quick walk three blocks down to the Starbucks on the corner where they’re starting to know my usual, “Skinny latte?” “Please.” The tensing and untensing of shoulders and growling of the stomach. Margaritas and wine late-night at a taco joint catching up with an old friend. Pear tequila underneath an electric pink glow. A familiar smile and unfamiliar stories.
5:30 a.m. wake up calls to do THE STAIRS in Santa Monica. The huffing and puffing and groaning of the body at dawn, working and pumping underneath an orange moon, lazily hanging above the Pacific. 9 a.m. conference calls, too-sweet Chinese food. Leaving of work satisfied and accomplished. An evening jog through Brentwood with close friends in the lavender light of the magic hour.
Oh, the joys of daylight savings.
Friday, March 6, 2009
It's Friday. I'm wiped.
I have been MIA but things have been moving so quickly that I have not had much time or energy to write!
Since my last post, I have:
- Flown to Arizona for one of my best friend’s engagement parties. I’m a bridesmaid!
- Been asked to be a bridesmaid in a different best friend’s wedding—I’m honored!
- Been cooking and entertaining quite a bit: red snapper, creamy tomato sauce, halibut, garlic green beans, more picnic plates…
- Planned trips back to Arizona for Easter weekend, Chi-town in April
- Gone skiing just about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles to Big Bear. To be honest, the mountain kinda sucked but my snow cravings are satisfied and hopefully I’ll make up to Mammoth before this season is over.
- Gone jogging several times alongside the ocean
- Gotten into a weekly habit of stopping by Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood a few times a week in the morning to pick up a non-fat hazelnut latte before work—such a treat!
- Gotten a new roommate. My old roomie told me she was moving out, I found a new roommate and she moved in—all within one week’s time period. And the new girl is amazing! I have no idea where my roomie luck comes from but somewhere there is a Roommate Fairy who likes me. This is roommate #3 at the Brentwood Chateau.
- Unfortunately had to cancel my wine trip (was supposed to be tomorrow) but now it’s late April; that’s just fine. Instead we’re going to the Getty in Malibu and we’ll be picnicking and sipping wine among art, gardens and ocean views. Not a bad substitute (and it still involves wine).
- Made significant progress with a good friend on a business we are starting.
- Worked insanely long hours at work.
That’s it, for now. It’s Friday. It’s a good day. It’s clear and sunny and bright outside, mid 60s here in Los Angeles but the blue sky makes you want to lie down besides the ocean. It’s a busy day and the office is a symphony of busy fingers tip-tapping across keyboards and phones. We had our usual catered in Friday breakfasts: omelettes and breakfast burritos and yogurt and granola. It’s a busy day at work. Things are unpredictable around here but the morale is high. Tonight I get to come home to a clean apartment, eat delicious leftovers and I may get a drink with a Maryland friend.
It’s a good day.
Since my last post, I have:
- Flown to Arizona for one of my best friend’s engagement parties. I’m a bridesmaid!
- Been asked to be a bridesmaid in a different best friend’s wedding—I’m honored!
- Been cooking and entertaining quite a bit: red snapper, creamy tomato sauce, halibut, garlic green beans, more picnic plates…
- Planned trips back to Arizona for Easter weekend, Chi-town in April
- Gone skiing just about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles to Big Bear. To be honest, the mountain kinda sucked but my snow cravings are satisfied and hopefully I’ll make up to Mammoth before this season is over.
- Gone jogging several times alongside the ocean
- Gotten into a weekly habit of stopping by Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood a few times a week in the morning to pick up a non-fat hazelnut latte before work—such a treat!
- Gotten a new roommate. My old roomie told me she was moving out, I found a new roommate and she moved in—all within one week’s time period. And the new girl is amazing! I have no idea where my roomie luck comes from but somewhere there is a Roommate Fairy who likes me. This is roommate #3 at the Brentwood Chateau.
- Unfortunately had to cancel my wine trip (was supposed to be tomorrow) but now it’s late April; that’s just fine. Instead we’re going to the Getty in Malibu and we’ll be picnicking and sipping wine among art, gardens and ocean views. Not a bad substitute (and it still involves wine).
- Made significant progress with a good friend on a business we are starting.
- Worked insanely long hours at work.
That’s it, for now. It’s Friday. It’s a good day. It’s clear and sunny and bright outside, mid 60s here in Los Angeles but the blue sky makes you want to lie down besides the ocean. It’s a busy day and the office is a symphony of busy fingers tip-tapping across keyboards and phones. We had our usual catered in Friday breakfasts: omelettes and breakfast burritos and yogurt and granola. It’s a busy day at work. Things are unpredictable around here but the morale is high. Tonight I get to come home to a clean apartment, eat delicious leftovers and I may get a drink with a Maryland friend.
It’s a good day.
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