Montly archives
Hey, is this thing still on?
It feels like this place hasn't seen any action in a veritable month. Pushing aside the cobwebs for a moment, I mean, the last time we talked it was still snowing and Leab was still blogging too. But now it's in the 70's, Leab has the audacity to make an appearance to tell me off for not writing, and I'm at a totally satisfying new gig (read: one where I don't have time to blog in the middle of the day). Seriously. How great was that job where I had so much free time I could actually *blog* from work everyday? Ha ha ha, yeah, not so much. I was so bored out of my mind I've never done so much reading in my entire life. Ah yes, those were the days.
So, um.... Hey. What's up?
I'm gonna keep this kinda short so I can hit the sack early. Turns out I'm actually gonna have to work tomorrow... you know, as opposed to all the "meetings" and web surfing I've been up to at this new job for the past week. Even with the impending "real" work in my very near future, let me just say I *love* my new job. Love, love, love it like a kitten on cat-nip (and I'm not just saying that cuz my boss reads this blog, which he totally does). No seriously. I'm probably the luckiest person ever. I mean, I get PAID to surf the web - you know, cuz I'm all doing research 'n stuff. Heh. In the interest of not getting pegged with tomatoes the next time I see anyone I know for being so god damned happy all the freagin' time, we'll just expand on all this later.
The job. It is good.
(I'm also learning how to play nice with my tripped out Mac G5 - WHICH, I've named Zoe - but that's totally another post for another day. Steve Jobs, you have some work to do if you're gonna convince me of anything.)
I think I have to go lie down now. This blogging thing is making me feel kinda awkward, just like when I was in the 7th grade with a perm, braces, and gangly limbs all trying not to stare at Kyle Fisher over differential equations in math class.
*blushes*
Vacation's over. Let's celebrate!
Timbuk2
New favorite thing: Timbuk2 bags. The designer in me would like to thank Timbuk2 for making the world a prettier place one bag at a time. No really, thank you. Even your chocolate brown is deliciously succulent.
If you spent the past 5 minutes exploring their site, you already know I've purchased one of their messenger bags. Clearly. I mean, did you *see* the beautiful colors available in all their availableness? Coral. Baby blue. Pink. Gold. Chartreuse. CHARTREUSE people! How can you be expected to restrain yourselves, go build one already!
Apologies. I digress. It's not every day I get to talk so much about Chartreuse around here.
My transformation back to a living, breathing, walking 3.5 miles per day, creature of downtown is nearing completion. I needed a bag for carrying around the normal array of girl things I need to carry around because frankly, the 10 lb. Target purse I *was* using wasn't cutting it. (Target, you disappoint me.) Enter Timbuk2 stage left with a pirouette, a fancy display of foot-work, and that was reason enough for me to gobble up their messenger bag goodness. Finally, FINALLY!, I have the appropriately stylish accessory for carrying around all the necessities of life. You know. Like... uh, lipstick. Moleskine books (yes, plural). Three-inch heels on those days when I don't particularly feel like walking 1.75 miles across town in cute, pinched heel goodness. And the Nag Hammadi library (which I *still* haven't read... the reason we'll get to in a future post, of course).
Part of their website is a pretty slick setup in which you get to build and customize a bag to your liking. Can you hear me "ohm"ing? Cuz yeah, there was some serious "ohm"ing as I mixed and matched the full array of colors. Check out my new baby blue, white, and orange messenger bag stylessory:
Don't worry, my heart is still set on a Crumpler for the photography gear (IN RED!). But you gotta admit that Timbuk2 messenger bags are a little slice of yum.
My work here is done. Enjoy.
My mom will be responding to this in 5... 4... 3...
A few of my favorite things this week.
- The phrase "mind-fucking".
- Acquiring a parking spot at work, thus eliminating a nearly 4 mile commute I've been walking to/from said establishment. Laugh if you will, but tomorrow I'm wearing heels. High heels. The kind of heels not meant to be walked 4 miles of city in.
- Dansko clogs. I've never been so proud to say I own a pair of shoes with arch support before in my life. Wow.
- The login page over on Newsvine. Oh wait, there is none! I love you AJAX. Will you be mine?
- Falling in love body lotion by Philosophy. So yum.
- My tattoo. Okay, so this has been a favorite thing of mine for the past 8 years, but finally getting the tattoo a few months ago just did it for me. Every day I catch a glimpse of it as I'm getting dressed and sigh, happily, in all my happiness.
- 83 degree weather in April. In Minneapolis. Today.
- V for Vendetta. Okay, total cheese and Natalie Portman is so *not* a bad-ass in this flick like the previews made her out to be. BUT! It's hollywood entertaining. Ain't nothing wrong with a little hollywood entertaining.
- Pink pants. (Catch them tomorrow, if you can.)
- Alright, I'll say it.... my boss. No seriously, I love him. I wish he could be everyone's boss just so the world would be a happier place full of butterflies and chocolate.
- Chipotle guacamole. My favorite guacamole in all the land.
- People who talk to themselves in the third person when they think no one is listening. So. Cute.
- My new bag from Timbuk2, of course.
- The air conditioner.
I'm going to live to regret saying that last one after every single person I know gets ahold of this post, but freagin' a. It's 10 o'clock at night, it's still almost 80 degrees, and the humidity here is the suck. I haven't slept a full night in 2 weeks - I'm counting on this being my silent night.
No shame, none at all. For goodness sakes, I just told you I bought a pair of clogs with arch support! Clearly I've gone down a road where there's no turning back.
The year Easter became an all-american holiday
In this week's episode of Margaret's Monumental Space Cadetedness, your hero had an entire conversation with her mother about plans for Easter exactly one week ago today... but it wasn't until two days later that she realized Easter was only a few days away.
*sigh*
I'm starting to think that learning COBOL in college took up too many of my precious few brain cells. I can remember the structure and syntax of a programming language I'll never use, but I can't even remember when Easter is. COBOL, you've overstayed your welcome. It's time to go back to your home planet.
In other news, HAPPY EASTER! I had intended on giving you the gift of a new design today, but a couple of tickets to the Twins/Yankees baseball game dropped in my lap... and, well, DEREK JETER! Needless to say I'll be spending the afternoon with a couple of friends at the baseball game, Super Mega Mighty Deluxe Mega Zoom close at hand. New design soon. Just as soon as I get my All-American holiday on.
Happy Easter everyone!
(Except, of course, if you're my brother. Ha ha ha, so NOT funny. No Twins, or Yankees, baseball tickets for you!)
I demand a recount!
What the fuck?!
My ex-favorite sister-in-law put my shirly-temple-esque photo through the old myheritage.com grinder, and it seems Prince William and I share the same toothy smile and bulbous cheeks.
Apparently I'm the heartthrob for every girl under the age of 25 in England, and also widely sought after by Hello! magazine for the latest scoop for who I'll be dating next. STAY TUNED!
*sigh*
I also look like Billy Crystal and a scrunchy Renee Zellweger. Seriously, why would Jenny do this to me? WHY WHY WHY?!! I must've kicked babies in a past life or something.
In full bloom
New design up tonight. I was getting tired of all the white and now you can see what inspired the colors of my Timbuk2.
There are a few things I am going to change and tweak, but frankly, my time has run out for the evening and I will have to fix those things up tomorrow (this includes all the bugs I've already found - no need to bombard me with snarky emails, I'm well aware of my deficiencies ...). Er, no wait. I'm busy tomorrow. Thursday then! Damnit... I'm busy Thursday too.
So, uh, soon I guess. In the meantime, enjoy!
Entry #928: Dizzying.
Filed under Things Only 1 or 2 People On This Planet Know About Me, Myself Included™, is that I have a peculiar obsession with handwriting. Not only do I secretly maneuver my way in situations that allow me full access to the handwriting of every single person I know, but I also transform in to a one-track-minded monster capable only of drooling and staring if I'm in a public place and get to see someone's, anyone's, handwriting.
Work. The grocery store. A date. You know, whenever.
This is the part where I expect everyone I know will say something like, "So miss smartypants. Tell me. What does my handwriting say about me?" I charge $125 an hour and a kitten for this kind of classified data, just so you know.
The real key to my obsession was that it started at a young age - and I'm talking so young here people that I wasn't even able to read or write yet. The OCD can be traced back to my mom (um, hi mom!) for constantly keeping me outfitted with paper, pens, books, and (smelly) markers everywhere we went (including church). So much so that I would literally spend hours upon hours marking up church bibles and songbooks pretending I was old enough to know how to print - or even better, the kama-sutra of penmanship, write in cursive.
I admit, it's entirely possible this compulsion is genetic since I know both my father and grandfather have/had similar obsessions with their own handwriting (I'm even told they had contests, but my grandfather would constantly pull the "I win because I said so!" card. And, of course, my dad bought it every time. "Curses!" his 12 year old self would say.). Incidentally, my father has the most beautiful handwriting I've ever seen, ever, in my entire life. No really, his handwriting is so gorgeous I'd put it up against that there guy who done writ the Declaration of Independence 'er whatever any day, any time.
So, yeah. Back to the point because I know there is one. Or at least I think there *was* one. Anyway... I'm totally obsessed with penmanship, which of course means I'm totally obsessed with my *own* penmanship. I'm mostly confident there's only one person in the world who knows my dirty little secret (well, until now that is), and I can't be sure but I think it was fascination I read on his face after coming clean.
"Let me see it," he said.
"Um, okay," I said... but then continued, "I need context."
Instead of arguing with his blank stare, I just pulled the napkin out from under my wine glass and started scribbling in each of 3 distinct styles.
- Cursive writing: Beautiful, perfectly perfect letters imbued with the slightest of slants. The only time I ever break out the cursive writing is when I'm writing checks or signing my name. Why do I do this? I have no clue. Maybe it's like my money is more meaningful when I take the care of blessing each and every letter with the gift of curve. Or, uh, maybe it's just a dirty old habit without reason. I do lots of things that don't have a point - just ask any of my ex-boyfriends.
- Printing: It's difficult to qualify the printing prowess, but basically it's a whole lotta beautiful that can be done *SUPER MEGA LIGHTNING* fast and still win awards. I've seriously practiced this style hours upon hours over the years because I have a life. There, I said it. The style of *printing* is probably engaged 70% of the time.
- Printing in caps: Another style I use only in the most specific of situations like, for example, addressing an envelope, making lists, writing down a fake number for some college-aged guy at some bar who won't stop drunkenly pestering me for the digits, or as the header of anything. Printing-in-caps is like my own personal H1, H2, and H3 system... but a system based in reality.
On this year's list of my possible Nanowrimo subjects is 'The designer's guide to handwriting interpretation'... or as my bossy publisher would probably re-name it after claiming that no one reads that boring stuff, let's spice it up a bit with something like, 'Does he really love me? Let his handwriting tell you!' Or '10 tips to a better sex life.'
You'd think a childhood of OCD would have keyed *someone* in my life to the fact I would someday be a designer and that, in fact, you can make a living off typography. Alas, it didn't, no one had a clue, and that's why I gradually started receiving barbies each and every holiday instead of art supplies.
In conclusion, you now know where my affinity for pink comes from.
(Dizzying, isn't it?)
Yes, we're 12
So, tonight Shea and I are watching the beginning of the Saw 2 (actually, more like 5 minutes ago) when (and I'm not revealing any plot secrets here...) the evildoer says to the man with the deathmask, "In order to get the deathmask off, you need to unlock it with the key."
... wait for it, wait for it ...
"And the key, it was inserted IN YOUR EYE 2 hours ago."
Excuse me while I yawn for a moment. Cuz yawn. So I decided to take it upon myself to rewrite the scene a little.
"And the key, it was inserted BEHIND YOUR PROSTATE 2 hours ago."
There, that's *much* scarier to a man... agreed?
In the cards?
So. I'm still having commitment issues about the whole kitten thing (the short story is that I'm a commitment-phobe and kitteny goodness is a seriously serious responsibility in my world). But, BUT!, after spending 2 hours at my friend's house with her f.o.u.r. cats last week who are beautiful and adorable and charming and wonderful and cute and purrtastic and soft and shiny and soft and fluffy... I'm starting to think I not only *can* do this cat thing but maybe *need* to do this cat thing.
Don't freak out cuz I haven't gone kitten shopping or anything like that. However, I *did* speak with a co-worker today who works with a local rescue shelter to just, you know, put out some feelers and let me know if any little kittens come in that need the kind of rescuing that can only be done by a single, 28 year old, city kind of gal with a great view. She said her sister's farm kitty is having a litter soon, too, so it sounds as if there will be digital photos winging their way to my inbox shortly.
And if they're anything like what's on cuteoverload then I'm in the biggest, fattest kitteny trouble ever.
What does all of this mean? Precisely nothing for the moment. But when the perfect kitty comes along I think it's time for me to go ahead and enter in to a deep, meaningful relationship with him. Cuz frankly I could totally use a deep, meaningful relationship with a him right now. And if he's black and shiny, all the better. Orange with white mittens will work too. And if he smells like kitten, I'll give him anything he wants except my warm pillow or spot on my favorite blanket.
Surprisingly lovely
We haven't talked about photography enough lately. To kick things off I thought an earth-shattering confession, the kind that will shock each and every one of you, was appropriate (we just haven't had enough of these, have we?). I, Margaret A, bought a Crumpler bag for all my photog gear.
Did I just hear a massive, not to mention collective, sigh of relief? Cuz anyone that's been reading these here parts longer than a week knows I've been lusting after one of these foooorrrrrr freeeeaginnnnn' evvverrrr. Well folks.... today officially marks the end of my incessant whining lusting. My new Crumpler is red, BRIGHT RED!, with a pretty white Crumpler logo and light blue lining. Oh boy oh boy oh boy does it make me happy to have an appropriately stylish and sassy home for all The Gear. My camera already takes better photos, I'm pretty sure.
All hail the Crumpler!
I'll get around to posting some photos of it on the photoblog at some point, of course.
The other thing I wanted to briefly touch on was the incredible good-fortune that fell in my lap one week ago today. Many, many thanks and praises to my friend Jaime for the studio lights now taking up residence in my living room. In a weird and serendipitous turn of events, 2 lights, stands, umbrellas, and control center capable of annihilating several third-world countries, SIMULTANEOUSLY!, have joined my ever-growing collection of geek stuff. What can I say? She didn't think I had enough geeky stuff. (Ha ha ha ha anyone buy that last part? Um, yeah. Thought so.)
Now that I have me some real lighting capable of getting me some real portraits, all my energy has been spent figuring out how many different ways I can use my new-found power for evil, only evil (and if I can blow some stuff up too? Then bust my buttons and color me pleased.). I somehow convinced Shea to come over last week for a few portraits that turned out just peachy. Check out this shot, but check out this shot too for a little slice of curl in the key of stunning. What's even more amazing was that I took these AFTER we stuffed our faces with Pizza Luce. Ha ha ha ha yummmmm. Don't look at me like that - we had priorities!
Last night also marked an end to my self-imposed ban on self-portraiture. In recent months I've become totally obsessed with high-key lighting and kittens. Seriously, I'm just starting to catch up with everyone else and wonder what's wrong with me - why can't I shake the affair I'm having with high-key? It's just so endlessly beautiful and satisfying and lovely and refreshing and... and... and...
Anyway. Last night I posted the first in a series of high-key self-portraits that turned out just swell. Gosh taking these was fun. Soooo much fun. In this shot I was going for the, It's Sunday Morning and I Just Rolled Out of Bed and Into This Beautiful Morning Light Looking Surprisingly Refreshed and Naturally Lovely With Absolutely No Effort At All Whatsoever™, look. After preparing a few more shots in this series that will go up the next few days, I'm thinking about calling this the Many Moods of Miss Margaret collection. Stay tuned for the photograph in which I lose all my shit, the photograph in which I'm recursively photographing myself, the photograph in which I actually made myself cry (ha ha ha no, but that'd be funny, no?), and the triptych photograph in which I'm laughing at something witty and clever coming out of the mouth of Julian McMahon early on a Sunday morning over coffee and kittens.
Luminescence
Is it just me or was that last design depressing everyone else too? Yeah, the blue was a little on the gloomy side so I whipped this... um,... red and pink thing up this morning. I dropped a few flowers in too cuz who doesn't like flowers? Yay flowers!
Much cheerier, no?