Re-Defined Life

A Teeny Tiny Career Update

It's time for a teeny tiny update on career related things. For those of you following along.

* You may have seen about a month ago that I was published on Hostelz.com. I wrote 9 reviews for them and took 45 photographs. And the publication was a nice boost for me.

* The month of November has already broken my online portfolio's monthly hits record. By a lot. I attribute this to some free advertising I obtained, a lot of resumes sent out, and the re-design--which I happen to think is rather spiffy.

* I have been contracted for some freelance writing work. I will keep you posted as this is published. Hoorah for publication. I love it.

* I was offered a job on the spot this week. Unfortunately the pay just wasn't doable. I'm not super-picky, but I like doing things like...you know...eating...buying toilet paper...putting gas in my car.

* Have an interview on Saturday. We'll see.

* Have put in my bid for three positions via the staffing service. Every time I talk to my staffing rep I like him more. He's not fluffy or complimentary necessarily, but he gets things done. He does what he says he'll do. And he calls me back. Therefore I adore him. Plus, all three jobs made my heart beat a little faster. They are great companies and the position sounds perfect. So come on, bring me in for an interview! I promise I'm even better in person than on paper.

* The advertising job I interviewed for a long time ago has decided to postpone their hiring process. So that's still a possibility (and would be exciting, as most ad agencies won't hire you unless you have specific agency experience--and I'd love to have my feet in that door).

* This blog has seen an increase in traffic in the past week. I believe that Google's finally caught onto me.

And the search continues. I'd love to do some charity writing/design, so I'm looking into that too. Ultimately, of course, I do need something that pays the bills. So I keep on search search searching. Denver's a bit harder to navigate than I anticipated, but I'm so desperately in love with the city already. And something is bound to happen.

Gigi

The EvilPlan of BadCats #1 & #2

Holly, as she is an environmentally friendly kind of girl, bought some expensive organic kitty litter for the BadCats. And the kitties, in true BadCat form, were not excited at the prospect of saving the environment by peeing in something resembling wood chips that didn't stick to their feces appropriately.

So they concocted a plan. And, until the evil execution of said plan, Holly and I thought they were only moderately bad. But, no, they are SuperBad.

Step one of the plan was executed at 4AM on the night that Holly was gone overnight for work. I was soundly sleeping on the couch, allowing all my scratch wounds to rest and heal, when a noise, resonant of that of a MACK truck crashing through the front wall, caused me to jolt out of my sleep--flinging the one kitten who was pretending to be good and sleeping on my lap high into the air. I looked wildly around the room a moment before realizing that the BadCats had managed to propel themselves onto the TV table (which is still too high for them to really jump, thus they need assistance from the chair next to it) and propel a large heavy plant off the table.

The dirt was spread across the carpet and the cats happily frolicked through it. Digging. Digging. I didn't catch the resemblance to their litter digging until later. I shoved them away time and time again as myself and the dirt devil became acquainted. So tired and trying to get all the dirt off the floor, as I didn't want to drug all over the house by said BadCats while I slept.

The first part of their plan had been foiled, but I didn't know that yet. They defaulted to part two of the EvilPlan.

Holly got home that morning and picked up one BadCat, leaning into the Papazzan chair, which was full of scarves and blankets, playing with the kitty and chatting with me amiably. It wasn't until she stood from the chair that she realized something was amiss.

"Why are my pants wet?" she asked, confused.

"I don't know."

She turned and revealed a large wet oval on her rear.

"Maybe it's from squirting the cats a lot over there?" I said, confused. As that is how we punish the BadCats--squirting them with peppermint scented water--which they hate.

"No, I don't think so." she put BadCat #1 down, leaned her head down into the chair, and discovered the pee smell she'd been dreading.

She moved the blankets. Moved the scarves. More and more and more spots.

The Bad Cats, in an attempt to boycott organic litter  and non-soft litter boxes, had deemed the papazzan chair their new litter box. They tried to fill it with dirt and, upon failing that, had resigned themselves to scratching around in blankets and coats for a satisfying squat.

And now there's a papazzan bound for the garbage and two very pepperminty fresh cats.

Di Fashionista

Tonight is two for the price of one ice skating. And dressing up. People in fifties-wear, poodle skirts, rolled jeans, skating around a Denver rink hand in hand.

It reminds me of last year. Jon took me to Bryant Park in early December. We didn't skate (though I'm not sure why), but we watched. We stood aside the rink, his arms around my shoulders, watching little kids dive accidentally backward onto the ice, and watching a teen boy chase a teen girl, giggling across the ice. I am not a huge fan of cold weather. In fact, take the huge out of that sentence: I'm just not a fan at all. But I do love things like ice skating. People watching. Feeling the lightness of everyone around you while they do festive seasonal things. It's the best part of December--that kind of thing.

I've been thinking about New York a good deal this week. I love Denver and am glad to have moved here. But nostalgically, I ponder my time in New York. I miss the wine bar in West Village--Ino--with their nonpronouncable wines. I miss champagne and chocolate in Park Slope on 7th ave. I miss the boutiques in Soho--though I rarely could afford anything they carried. I miss their ambiance. Their class. Their oddness. Like the bright pink dog stuff shop--bright pink collars with rhinestones, bright pink dog beds with rhinestones, bright pink walls....with rhinestones.

However much I want to be away from New York, it will always have a space in my heart. People can't understand its hold unless they've lived there a while. There's some amount of love, some amount of hate, some amount of despair associated. A mosaic of emotions.

Perhaps one of the reasons it has been on my mind is the comparison this week has brought. I have noticed all along, during my time in Denver, the difference in dress code. A oasis for the jean-clad, for t-shirt enthusiasts, for the combination of jean and black. I'm always the overdressed one. I'm not mentioning it because I mind. I like clothes. I like dresses. I don't mind being the only girl without the blackjean combo meal. I just notice it--the difference--my own standing out.

It's funny because Lara, my colleague from my time in NYC, moved to North Carolina shortly after I left for Europe. Reading her journal this week I was interested to note that she's experiencing the opposite. The expectation that her time in New York means ownership of top designer dresses. And the dissapointment when she shows up in her vintage day dresses. She dresses better than I do, and there she feels the expectation is for her to dress even better. Whereas here I feel like I'm the fashionista wherever I go.

Funny, as the most expensive dress I own was purchased in Colorado last year and was less than $200. 

A yet, here I am, fashionista extrodinaire.

Ha.

Speechless in Wonder

I drove to Denver on Saturday, to an unfamiliar area with a tiny and not-well-kept coffee shop on a cute shopping block in a part of town I remember once ending up in accidentally when I was totally lost and trying to get to Holly's house.

The reason for my drive to the tiny unknown coffee place was a blind date. Yes, yes, I agreed to a date. Only my second date in Denver (which is a display of pretty admirable self-restraint, actually). Boredom in the mountains had gotten the best of me, and so I agreed to meet the man, whom I will from this point forward refer to as Tnagorra.

The first indication that it wasn't going to be a good date was the lateness. The twenty minute lateness, to be precise. My phone died two minutes before we were supposed to meet, and twenty minutes later the only coffee shop customers around were elderly couples and a blond boy with his ipod on studying for a test.

I cupped my cider to go and annoyedly headed toward the GigiJeep. Then I thought I would stop in a restaurant and use their phone. At least I could find out if he'd called to cancel.

When I called he had just reached the coffee shop (we actually passed each other) and said he'd left a message saying he was running late. Alright. So I went back down the block and so began the amusingness.

Have you ever met someone you'd describe as shifty-eyed? I'd read the phrase in books, but never met anyone who truly was--until then. He couldn't keep eye contact, his eyes shifting and flitting every which way and his facial expressions odd and inscrutable.

He talked about how frustrated he was, how no one understands him, how he sees life differently, how he is always there for girls but they don't seem to get him. And then he talked about how when his ex asked to leave an akward situation in a restaurant he told her she could go alone. Now, that's what I call being there for someone. Serious.

He said he wanted to be married. And have a baby. And name it Grace.

And I wondered what it is about me that inspires men to express these things the first time they meet me.

Then he told me he had turned other dates down, telling them he was already talking to somebody. Two sentence emails to someone you haven't yet met counts for that. You know.

He went on to the topics of music (he is a worship band member and has his own band, and the reason I actually agreed to meet him is that he seemed a little like a college friend--Ryan P.--and I thought that if nothing else, I would enjoy the company of a Christian musician over coffee), but oh so arrogantly. Poetry can't be converted to a song. It's impossible. He said. I told him it depends on the poem. No, he said. It doesn't. I didn't mention that I write songs often based on my poetry and I write poetry often based on freehand prose. It's pointless to argue with the self-assured.

So Tnagorra went on. He asked me a few questions, one being about my familiarity with Denver. I mentioned that I was living in Cherry Creek and earned an exhasperated eye roll and sigh. What? I said, thus inviting a rant upon myself.

Apparrently he hates cherry creek. All of us are snobs. And arrogant. a-r-r-o-g-a-n-t. t-n-a-g-o-r-r-a. Tnagorra.

It's so often that we hate the people who are like ourselves.

So this is why I have been turning down all the date offers here. Now you know--not like you didn't know before if you're a regular reader. I mean, you did hear about Daddy Warbucks and the others whose pickup lines leave me...umm...speechless in wonder.

Thinking Back

Around this time last year I made a list of my favorite moments of the year. I liked doing that, so I'm going to do it again. These are the craziest, oddest, most wonderful, and most questionable moments of 2007 so far (and 2006 after Thanksgiving) in no particular order. And, note that some of them are links--this is because some of them have associated journal entries, for your nostalgic reading pleasure.

Best Moments:
1. Being kissed on the Brooklyn Bridge
2. My sister's visit to New York
3. San Francisco in June: particularly riding bikes across the Golden Gate into Sausolito
4. Kayaking in Cinque Terre (minus MB's meltdown)
5. My Minute-By-Minute Account of my life in New York (the whole week was way fun)
6. Brianna & Joel's wedding weekend
7. Venice with Dave: a gondola ride, lots of walking, the beautiful sunsets, Dave falling on his ass trying to take photos of sailboats...
8. The three days after Europe and before Denver: part of the EMV (Era of MV)
9. Eating schnitzel and goulash in Vienna (mmmmm)
10. Scaring the Viennesse kids with my amazing poker skills :)
11. I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change, the musical
12. Brianna & Joel's engagement weekend

Most Hilarious Moments:
1. Meeting Daddy Warbucks
2. Mr. Fancy's Debut
3. The LaughKiss Incident
4. Catsitting & Paint Machine Malfunctions in the same week
5. Everything Jenn said all year
6. When the kid in Venice threw a cat into the nasty canal water (both tragic and totally hilarious--poor cat) 

A Festive Poem

'Twas the month before Christmas
And all throughout Denver
The lights flickered on
For the month of December.

There were Christmas trees glowing,
As ice skaters reveled
And lights that were dancing
As though bedeviled.

The children reached out
With their hearts all aglow,
As reindeer pranced by
And Santa laughed "Ho!"

In town oh so festive,
It begins in November
Sleighbells and Reindeer
And Carols in Denver!

Cat's Out of the Bag

A couple weeks ago Holly obtained a pair of teeny tiny razor-clawed kitties. She named them Sake' (the orange kitten) and Anush (the black one). And both of them are an amazing addition to Holly's already fun apartment.

Cats always have their own personalities and this pair is no different. It was Anush (the more curious of the two) who lead the expedition into the paper bag. It was also Anush who decided that Holly's plant was going to be her litter box. And it was Anush who decided that 4am is time for the silly human sleeping on the couch to wake up.

Sake, on the other hand, is the fighter. Anush will bite, softly. Sake will eff you up. She's independant (until she's very sleepy, then she stops pretending she doesn't like cuddling, and will even resort to cuddling with Anush) and ingenious--having found her way onto the kitchen counters via the couch pillows.

But really, kittens can only fight so long. Until they get very very sleepy...

Very sleepy...yawn...

Skills are Skills are Skills

I apologize for the lack of writing. It has been both eventful and uneventful this week. And mostly because I was having multiple meltdowns about finances, about how long it is taking for me to get full-time work (not that I don't love the part time projects, but I am ready to settle down a bit here, and for me that means full time work).

But I'll start with the hopeful news: I stopped into one of the Creative Staffing Firms I am a part of and there was a really exciting sounding opportunity that had just come up. They sent my stuff over to them, and so we'll see what comes of it. I really liked the company's website and the sound of the job. So cross your fingers and say your prayers for me.

I also am starting to experience a small increase in blog traffic on this and the Re-Defined Denver blog. Very exciting.

Onto the less wonderful news (well, not really news, just a rant on something that frustrates me, not only for myself but for other talented creative professionals who don't have the very painfully specific experience that companies want. Quite literally, one could have marketing experience in a corporation and be doing all the same things they would be doing in an ad agency, and often the agency still wouldn't hire them because they want someone with "agency" experience. To me, turning away someone who has the skills and the know-how doesn't make sense).

On Tuesday I went to an informational meeting for one of the larger advertising firms in the Denver area. Everyone was really nice, it was a great intro to the agency itself, and I really liked the HR director. But, one of my long time frustrations was very present in the meeting. She continually said that they didn't hire in Creative Dept. people without agency experience. My question has always been and will always be: how does anyone get experience if no one hires without experience? Not everyone can afford their unpaid internships, and its a moot point anyway because the unpaid internships aren't in the creative dept. anyway.

Even in past jobs, when I was on the other end (the one who was hired and did have experience) of this kind of thing, I never thought it was quite fair. You might be turning away the best designer in the area, because they worked freelance instead of in an agency. People need to take a look at the quality of someone's portfolio, the quality of their communications (which can be gauged pretty well in an interview), and the other things which make employees great: work ethic, integrity, willingness to learn (that's what references are for).

So I was rather frustrated after that. It feels like beating your head against a brick wall. I mean, I'll never give up. This is what I love. This is what I do. This is what I'm good at. But I need someone to recognize that skills are skills, whether they are from a corporate background, a freelance background, an educational background, an agency background, etc. They are still the skills. And if you are good, you are good.

Gigi

Re-Defined Designs Redesign Completed

My portfolio is fully re-defined an running. Opinions? Opinions?

Gigi

Re-Defined Denver Launched

Last week I launched Re-Defined Denver, for all the Denverites who want to know what's going on in town, what venues are worthwhile, where to find things like martini bars, swing venues, or sushi spots in Denver, and anything else that relates to our fair city.

Obviously, I just moved here, but who better to offer fresh perspective on the exploration of Denver?

So, if you check it out and have any suggestions for me I'd love to hear from you.

Tata,

Gigi