Moving to San Francisco

21 Mar

 

This week my mom and I are visiting San Francisco to see if I should really move there. We will be visiting the branch of Miami Ad there, eating at Chez Panisse and having lots of fun in general.

But…

I’m starting to waffle on my decision to move. I already quit my job. I haven’t put my notice on my apartment yet, but that’s next. This last week I have had more fun in Minneapolis than probably ever. What do I do? I’ve met awesome new friends this week, had a great date (and a few terrible ones-details will follow) and it has been really nice out! Sun! It’s amazing what a little sun can do to make you forget about winter.

I’m thinking that I should stay in Minneapolis through the summer, find some job waiting tables, do great work at school, then head to an internship on the West Coast in October, when it gets cold again. I also want to spend some time on the East Coast, and maybe in between too.

Why would I want to leave Minnesota when it’s the nicest? I think I made my decision under the duress of February, which is never a good time to make decisions.

I’ve decided to take Liz’s advice and make a Pro/Con list. Here we go:

Pros: There’s no February in Minnesota in California. It’s a new city to explore. San Francisco is BEAUTIFUL. There are tons of adventures to be had, and potentially a great school experience. Minnesota Nice will be left in Minnesota.

Cons: I don’t know anyone there. I have no savings-and won’t have much to move with unless I can sell some stuff. I really, really love my apartment right now. I love living in Uptown. We have great co-ops here. I have awesome friends here. My best friends live here. My family is all here. Lake Harriet. The Greenway. The bikers. The great farmers markets (in summer that is). The wonderful network of people who make my heart happy. There is a great design community here. We have tons of art and culture and diversity.  I love my bike and my apartment and my community here. I would have to live with strangers, probably a few of them. I would be struggling for everything I’m sure. I’m not sure I want to give everything I have here up.

Sigh. I hate making decisions.

OK-now it’s your turn. Feel free to add pro’s and con’s as you see fit.

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I wonder who reads this blog.

28 Feb

I made this for a friend-Liz-who totally is a star. You are too.

Hey! You!

I think you should leave more comments. I’m starting to think the only people that read my blog are spambots. I also really wonder who the hell is reading this thing!

As some of you know, I have recently began an Art Direction program at Miami Ad School in Minneapolis. Somedays I really don’t know why the hell I am doing what I am doing, but then I remember: oh yeah, it’s super fun to make things!

At Miami Ad, we spend lots of time with Adobe Creative Suite, amongst other things. I bought a DSLR and fell in love with photography this last summer. I meet interesting people every day. I get to think about big ideas, and make cool things around those big ideas. I rediscovered how fun it can be to draw with markers. I learned that a Sharpie is the worst thing in the world to smell for 4 hours straight. I’ve put myself in uncomfortable situations with students that seem lifetimes younger than me at times, then more mature and knowing of me other times.

Sometimes I worry that I am selling my soul to the Corporation, but then I remember again-it’s really cool to make stuff. To make stuff for good people and good companies is going to be even cooler.

SO–that’s my wax poetic on ad school today. I’m going to try to update this thing a bit more often. If I have any time to go on any dates I will surely tell you how bad they are also. I have a few good stories in my head, but I am going to wait until I am not telling them out of spite-and just telling them to be funny. You’ll have to be patient.

Dating Experiment #4

28 Nov

So, I never actually went out on a date with this hopeful, but I thought I would say a few words about the introduction email.  There are so many intricacies to making the first connection. My style is usually to send a few lines, just to see if the person is interested in learning more. No sense writing a memoir if the guy doesn’t like the looks of me. The same goes for you, guys.  I get emails all the time that divulge way too much information, or even worse, nothing at all except a really rude question.

Please. It’s not going to happen, ever. Just stop asking. (I wonder what the response rate is for that type of question anyway? It can’t actually work. Same goes for the rude photos. Who actually thinks that will work?)

That said, please don’t send the following:

“Hi there,

I really think this “emailing to introduce yourself” to someone you’ve never met is challenging. Who really does that? And I understand your feeling in your opening line…me too. But here we are.

I’m sure your getting all kinds of crazy emails from “interesting” guys, I assure you I’m not the typical guy on this site. I’m active in life, confident, successful, attractive, and really funny, so if you don’t like to laugh, we’re in trouble.

What’s your story? It sounds like you have traveled some…what are your three favorite places and why? I suspect you are not just another average person on this site. Tell me more about yourself. Are you more than just a pretty face in a picture?

Since we’re both on here to meet someone new, we should go grab a drink or coffee sometime.see what happens… worst case?…you meet a cool new friend.

Talk with you soon.”

First of all, don’t assume that you aren’t crazy. Everyone is, just in different ways. Second, don’t assume that the WORST that could happen is that I make a new friend. I have been around the block one too many times to know this is not the case. Cross-dressers who threaten you or drug addicts who cry on the first date are much worse. I don’t want an assignment in the first email either. I have lots of things to say-how about you let me say them?

And really, anyone who says they are confident, successful and attractive in the first email isn’t in real life. Besides, I saw this guys picture.  He had obviously lied about his age, stated as 36, and was really NOT attractive. To me, at least.  I’m sure there is someone for him, just like I keep saying there is someone for me.

Online dating is a norm now, as far as I can see.  I heard somewhere that 1 in 4 current marriages were the result of online dating. So, leave out the “this is crazy why are we here” because obviously if men were beating down my door, I wouldn’t be doing this. Neither would you, so leave it alone. It also beats picking up guys in bars. This way at least you get to weed out the crazies BEFORE you take them home.

Oh-I didn’t even touch on the grammar and punctuation needed for me to respond.  I think you probably figured that one out though. ANY misspellings and you are really never going to get a response. Spell check is included in every email/browser/dating service for FREE. Use it. Please.

I will tell you about the cross-dresser soon. I promise.

The Dating Experiment, Part 3

5 Jul

At about 2:00 PM a few months of  Saturday’s ago, I was at work and an email from a dating hopeful popped up. He had an extra ticket to that evenings sold out Andrew Bird concert.  I really like A. Bird so I said what the hell, can’t be that bad. A free ticket is worth a bad date, right?

Wrong.

We talk on the phone for a minute and agree to meet at a local bistro for a drink and snack before the show. While we were on the phone, he mentions that he has a car but doesn’t like to drive it. He says he could probably walk to the aforementioned bistro, but I can tell he is hinting for me to pick him up. Not going to happen. He takes the bus and texts that he is running late. Because he didn’t just drive and get there on time. Because he didn’t know what bus to take and he missed his stop, blah, blah, blah. I am the girl. I should be the one being picked up, for Christ’s sake.

During dinner, conversation goes OK. Nothing crazy, like we both love the color red AND blue, but just your typical first meeting chat. He suggests that we walk to the show downtown; after all–it is only 26 blocks.

What?

No. I wore date shoes. We’ll drive.

We get in my car and I park in my secret place, where if you have a drink inside, which you probably would do somewhere anyway, you get free parking. We get out and I notice he still has his backpack with him, which he affectionately refers to as his “man-purse.” I think we are going to have the free-parking drink, but he gets a little nervous when I suggest this. “The show starts at 8:00 and it is 7:35. Don’t you think we should find our seats?” I have seen probably 1500 concerts in my life, and none have started on time. So, we skip the drink and head in.

Since I have seen so many shows, I know that the ushers are going to search our bags. He didn’t. When he opens his “man-purse,” he is told that he can’t bring it in. I look back and see that in this bag, there are no less than 10 prescription pill bottles and two bottles of booze. One of the pill bottles falls out and rolls towards the door. Seriously. He runs after it, like it is the Ring and he is Gollum. Now I know why he didn’t drive in the first place, because he isn’t allowed to operate heavy machinery with all the sedation. The usher looks at me with pity and we go back to my car to put it away. I don’t even want to know why he has all these pills, probably just his daily cocktail of normalizing elements. It did explain that far-away look in his eyes though.

We find our seats—still 15 minutes to go—and have nothing to talk about. He smells funny. Thankfully, for the first time, I was proven wrong about the start time. Saved by the opening act. During intermission, we try to get a drink but the bar doesn’t take plastic. What? Is everyone working against me having ANY fun?

I get in line for the bathroom and he says he is going to walk around for a while. I find this kind of strange, but then I figure he is going to try to break into my car to get a fix. I worry about this for a minute, but remember that I have insurance and could use a few extra bucks. I get out of the bathroom and my date is nowhere to be found, so I head back to our seats. I start talking to the lady next to me, who turns out to be Martin Dosh’s Country Day preschool teacher. Nice. We chat. I notice that Andrew Bird fans are very homogeneous. I feel like I should cover my tattoos. My date is gone for a long time.

I finally see him run up the stairs—in a full sweat. He tells me that he ran down the block and back to get cash. Literally ran.  We head back down to the bar.  By this time, the line for the bar is ridiculous and the show is starting again, so we give up. He smells even worse now, like wet Cornflakes and batteries. Gross. And, his eyes look a little more glazed over. I think he probably just popped into the Saloon to score. I know that he was just trying to be nice with this gesture, but really, calm down a little.

Midway through the second set I realize that if I want my free parking, I will have to sit through another drink with this dude. He is gleeful when he learns of this. We head to the bar—I order the happy hour cheap white wine. He hems and haws over the drink menu, and finally orders an appletini. (I know, it just keeps getting better.) The bartender looks at me like “What the Hell are You doing with this Douchbag?” I just shrug. He then knows I am just there for the parking voucher. The appletini, mixed with all the meds that this guy is on, makes him very drunk, very fast. He starts telling me all about how he has no friends, how his girlfriend dumped him and he needs to sell the engagement ring, how he doesn’t know what to do. Tears well up. He asks if I will buy him some fries, because eating makes him feel better. I agree, because I don’t want this guy to cry on me. He cries anyway. The fries come and he asks the bartender for a side of gravy through his tears. I order another glass of wine—and the bartender fills it to the top of the 10-ounce glass with a knowing look at me. Save me. Please. I am begging you.

For the first time ever, I use my Fake-a-Call app for my iPhone. Best app ever. “Oh No! My sister needs a ride from First Ave.! Can you find your way home?” He looks up with his teary eyes and gravy on his chin like—You Can’t Leave Me Here. I realize that his bag is in my car—so we pay the bill, rather, I pay the bill, and we leave. He begs me for a ride home, admitting that he doesn’t know how to take the bus. I figure that this guy would probably get killed waiting for the bus crying in downtown Minneapolis and covered in gravy, so I speed him home. I nearly push him out of the car—but he tries to kiss me anyway. No, no, no. Please go away. Let this be over.

He sends a text the next day. Really? After crying on a first date you’re going to text me to say you had a good time? Get real. I’m not sure that the free Andrew Bird ticket was worth it.  I did see A. Bird on the street corner after I got back downtown.  He was with HIS date.  I wonder if it went better than mine.

What did I learn from this?  Free is never really free. Next time I might know better.  (Who am I kidding?  I love adventures and probably would do it again. I might just have a better screening process next time.)

The Dating Experiment, Part 2

25 Jun

I am officially a jerk.

I was supposed to go on a coffee date with one of the guys I met with the Online Dating site. Want to know why I didn’t go? Because he called at 9:45 AM. On a Sunday. That is way to early, because we have only spoke on the phone once before, in a nervous chatter where he didn’t ask about one thing regarding me except how my last relationship ended. He forced me to say it, too.

Him: “So, he’s moving huh? That must be a good story.”

Me: “Umm, yeah, I guess. Not much really, 3000 miles is kind of a commute.”

Him: “What happened?”

Me: “He got a job. Far away.”

Him: “Come on, there’s got to be more to it than that?”

Me: “Nope–not really.”

Him: “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

At this point I start making things up, just to shut this guy up. Yeah, I could have gone with him, but you know, but (insert inappropriate number here) months together is not long enough to decide something like that. Oh, you know, things started getting hard, and we are still friends; we hang out still, we just changed the status of the relationship. He’s really a great guy, and I like being friends with him. Blah, blah, blah.

Going with him was never an option. We are trying the Friends thing, but you already know how well that is going. He is great, though, even for a 40 year old, narcissistic commitment-phobe.

I hear a very loud noise on the other side of the phone. “What is that?”

“Oh-I am on my scooter.”

What!? Get off the phone and drive! On the phone on a scooter? Who IS this guy? He then proceeds to enter a sandwich shop, order a sandwich, pay, get back on the scooter, and drive home. ALL WHILE ON THE PHONE WITH ME. If I were working that counter, I wouldn’t make the damn sandwich until he hung up the damn phone. Just because it is mobile, doesn’t mean you get to talk on it in any situation.

I begin to insist that he call me back when he is not so busy. “No, no,” he assures me, but the deal has already been broken. He will not get any face time with me, but I will let him think that he should call me on Sunday. Maybe I should have been more specific–Sunday AFTER NOON. I don’t answer the phone before Noon on the weekends, unless we have been dating for a long time or unless it’s my mother and it’s the second time she calls in a row. (That’s how I know something is up. I usually don’t answer her calls, because she just wants to guilt me into something, unless it’s two in a row. That’s our code.) ((sorry mom.))

I didn’t answer his text four hours later, either.

The Dating Experiment

22 Jun

I was posting these to a friends website under a fake name, but really, they deserved to be shared with the larger world.  Enjoy.

I think I might be a masochist.

There are worse things to be, like a Republican, a Fundamentalist, or a wood tick. No one likes a parasite.

Part of my masochism includes signing up with an online dating site. Knowing what I know, why would I want to do it all again?

I just got this email, this is not a joke.

Dear Darci:

I sent this e-mail a couple of weeks ago but it looks like it didn’t go through because I put a link to a YouTube video in it. So, I’m re-sending it now:

Last night, I was out in the back yard grilling a good steak with my old “swinger” charcoal grill. I had been working in the yard/planting flowers much of the day and took a little time to sit back against the fence in a metal shell chair.

My cat Simpson was lying in the yard and I was listening to some music from the wireless speaker I had out on the back deck. I had old cassette tape of various 70’s songs playing. I had titled the tape “Boogie Check.” This, after an old AM radio call in bit by the long defunct Boogie-U100. Boy, the DJ’s sure used to talk fast back then.

The Eric Carmen song, “All By Myself” came on and I thought of Tracie. She was a little girl I knew in grade school. Early on, I somehow came to the conclusion that I was in love with Tracie (notice the fancy spelling) but never really dreamed I had a chance with her.

When I was in the sixth grade, I was having supper with the family one night and there was a phone call for me. I was just a kid and never really talked on the phone much that I can remember. It was Tracie’s friend Dori and she asked me, “Do you like Tracie?” My family was all looking at me and this question scared the hell out of me. I said, “No” and hung up the phone.

That year, I was a school patrol captain and one day, Tracie’s older sister Tammy pointed at me and told her friend that I was Tracie’s boyfriend. Hmmm . . . I wonder what that would have involved? After all, girl germs were going around back then and the boys had to draw X’s on their hands with a ball point to protect themselves.

I guess Tracie did “like” me and I always felt bad about being scared and lying about my feelings. My near obsession over Tracie carried across the years to the exclusion of all other girls. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, I was still in “love” with Tracie.

It was at this point that I decided I would call Tracie. Do you know how hard it is for a painfully shy boy to call a girl on the phone? I was scared to death and nervous as hell but I called her up and asked her if she wanted to come over to my house to listen to records. She said she was “busy.” What, she couldn’t wait four years for my call?

I was bit destroyed after that and I decided to walk to Target to look at records. It was a bit of a walk and I went across the muddy gorge where they were just building highway 3 which later became 52.

It was 1975 and I bought what was then the new release by Eric Carmen. I remember going back down into my room, playing “All By Myself” and pining over Tracie.

Yep, I sure did like Tracie.

By the way, it’s a good thing that you don’t really want to meet anyone. I don’t want to meet anyone either.

Hope you had a great Fourth of July.”

Wow.

There are many parts of this letter that could scare a person, like the fact that he is telling me a story about a CHILD he was in love with and still thinks about? Red Flag. How about the part where he says he is Painfully Shy? For Christ’s sake, so am I, but I learned how to be fucking WITTY. Get over it. I also hate that he puts random things in quotation marks. Quotation marks do not make things ironic. Irony makes things ironic.

How long ago did Target stop carrying records?

I still have my friends call my date’s friends to ask if I am their girlfriend–there I go with that masochist streak again. I also make said friends find out details about their lives, like Has The Baby Been Born Yet or Are They Having Good Sex Because We Didn’t.

When? When does it end? I don’t think I need to mention that this one didn’t get a reply, let alone any face time.

p.s. I am dying to know what the You Tube video was. Oh, the possibility!

Thursday Morning

7 May

I probably should post more often to this.  Hmm.

So, last night I received an email from the notorious “dating website.”

“Subject line:  I Don’t Know.

Body:what do you say to a girl whose picture you saw online and thought she was cute and then read her profile and thought she sounded interesting?

any suggestions?”

So, I respond with “How about Hi?  That’s always a good place to start.”

Wake up this morning to this:

“Subject line: Snarky.

Body:  Is that sort of like bitchy?”


Well then.  Now I know why this jerk is single. Some guys are really out of touch.


25 Things About Me Revisited

28 Apr

I just reread this–remember the 25 Things about Me phase of Facebook? Well, I think it is worth posting here, so my list can have another place to live. Things have changed since then, of course, but it was a good snapshot of January for me.

Here we go:

1. I have lived in 11 apartments (that I can remember) in the past 14 years. I have also moved home twice in those years, so that makes 13 moves. They have all been in St. Paul except for the last time, when I made the jump to the “big” city. (it’s not really that big, St. Paulites. You should come over sometime.)

2. I want to move to San Francisco. Yes. I know it is expensive, but I am smart. I will find a way.

3. I am a total gadget nerd. I love my iPhone, MacBook, camera, stick blender, and any other gadget that makes my life “easier.”

4. I have had two dogs in my adult life in a time span of 6 months. One jumped out of the window of my car and the other prefers his new family to me. My shoes won in that battle.

5. I have over 75 pairs of shoes. They are like my pets now.

6. Even though I grew up in Minnesota, I really hate the snow and cold. I would be happy to never see snow again. I regularly cry in my car on below-zero mornings because of the absurdity.

7. Once I was dropped off on a remote mountain in Costa Rica by a non-English speaking cabbie and told to walk for 20 minutes (through signing and broken spanglish) and I would find where I was going. There was literally nothing around–and it was raining. I was wearing Birkenstocks and a sundress. I also had 2 bottles of Citron in my carry-on, and a backpack full of clothes that were unsuitable for hiking. I promptly opened one bottle of Citron and started walking. Did you know there are 45 kinds of poisonous snakes in Costa Rica? That’s why the cabbie was laughing when he turned around and drove off.

8. I have played the piano since I was 5.

9. I was studying to be a professional marimba player for 10 years until I stopped playing completely.

10. I recently applied to get a graduate degree in Music and continue that training. It would be silly to waste it and it is who I am.

11. I once thought I would open a vintage clothing store. I still have a whole bunch of stuff collected for it.

12. I really love coffee.

13. I really hate working out, but realize that after 30, I must.

14. I have never been close to getting married, nor do I want to. I also have no urge for children. This is very hard for some people to understand. I am tired of people telling me You Will Change Your Mind When You Meet The One. Please. Stop. I won’t and it’s OK.

15. I subscribe to fluffy magazines to look at the fashion pictures. I love them.

16. I have attempted online dating for a few years and it is slowly killing me. Who thought this was a good idea? I do have some really good stories though. As my mother’s friend March says, “If they can hold a knife and fork, they are not online.” I am beginning to believe her.

17. I am hopelessly addicted to the show Lost.

18. I won front row tickets to a Paul Simon show once, and he told the whole arena that everyone should be dancing like me, then came over and shook my hand. I was the only one dancing in the front row.

19. Champagne is my favorite season.

20. I could stay in bed all weekend if left to my own devices.

21. I have a certificate in Graphic Design that I got for fun. I still take graphic design classes and want to get a MFA in it someday.

22. I try to like olives, but I don’t. Yes, I am a true Middle Eastern woman, but I don’t like olives.

23. I prefer drinking wine out of crystal. I think that goes with being a wine snob.

24. I don’t make enough money for my taste, but I am really resourceful. I love making meals that don’t cost anything. (one of the Co-op perks. So the peppers had to be trimmed, I will live.)

25. I have started doing Bikram yoga again and want to someday go to the Teacher Training, just to say I did it.

(phew–that was hard.)

My mom is the only one who reads my blog.

16 Mar

Remind me to show you how to set up the RSS feed Mom–then you don’t have to check all the time. You can just get updated automatically. Like magic.

Back to the tundra

15 Dec

It’s days like today that make me really wonder why I stay here. Really, what is holding me back from picking up and moving somewhere civil? We have so much snow already, the freeway is impassable and I can’t wear any of my stylish shoes. This is no way to live. And–I really don’t want to hear from any more people that this isn’t really that cold–because it IS. I don’t want to be told to wait for February or that this is how winter is Supposed to be. -14F is REALLY COLD. I don’t care how tough you are trying to be, quit it. No one wants to hear it. There is no room for PollyAnna when it takes you an hour to drive 12 miles.