NYC
I know that when I lived there I complained about NYC. It’s only when I left that I could truly love that city, and now I’m so excited to go back. I find myself missing it..missing the annoying subway rides where the doors always closed just before I got on and I had to wait another ten minutes, missing the smells (good and bad), missing the TONS of people everywhere, missing that at least most of those people know how to walk fast, missing the complaining about the (insert bad weather here), missing the endless options of restaurants— all cuisine, but most of all..missing my friends.
I am so excited for this coming weekend. Squeezing in time with my faves from college, my best friend in the world, my old boss, my bachelorette who is soon to be married, my closest friend in LA (who will be there too!) and even my brother.
I can’t wait.
Early AM
Had a lot to do at work this morning.. so I had to set the alarm for 6:30 which in my world really means its 6:15 but doesn’t feel as bad as seeing 6-1-5 on the clock when getting out of bed.
It was pitch black. I threw on my workout gear and started out on my run to the gym. What a strange time of the day…technically it’s morning, but it’s still dark. Most of the apartments along the way are still washed in darkness with not one light on and tucked away in bed. The street lights line my path and the air, while warm, still has that feeling of a crisp night. None of the street workers are out yet and somehow, Ocean Ave to the gym, seems alluring, unknown, different. Ocean Ave basking in sunlight full of runners and walkers is all too familiar, but this, this was different.
It’s a cool feeling to wonder. All through childhood things make us wonder, because we don’t know them yet. As an adult, it’s nice to have that feeling of not knowing and guessing what may be. I enjoyed that little run.. and then I hopped on the elliptical and everything was all too familiar again.
Advertising- Art & Copy
Tonight at my office we had a viewing of the film Art&Copy which is a documentary of sorts on the advertising industry and the key players who have helped to make it what it is..or isn’t.
I was really excited to watch it and although I had to step out every few minutes to send an email or check out a copy deck or review a comp.. I think I took away from it all that I could’ve. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. I guess I thought I’d view it the way I viewed things in a 3rd person way in college. When my branding class was the best few hours of my week and I’d dream about being a brand manager and what I would do. When the design layouts in big over-lit classrooms late at night with a T-square and rubber cement in hand felt like I was already starting to work my way up. Well now I’m probably too far INTO it to be able to step out of it. I watched the film as if I was watching my life, but knowing that everything they talked about wasn’t as exciting as they made it sound.
It seemed like a whole lot of patting themselves on the back for a job well done. Well what have these ad figures done for us? Have you SEEN Mad Men? Do WE get to have a bloody mary when we roll into work late, tell a client they do what we’re selling them or they can get out, or have a steak dinner at noon? NO. It’s not because of the recession either. Its just not like that in advertising anymore. When I hear people saying they’ve put their foot down and not sacrificed creative for the client’s dollars, I call their bullshit. That’s entirely untrue. They would’ve been out of a job years ago.
I guess what I’m saying is.. I had hoped to feel a bit inspired, motivated by this film about my career…and I felt inspired to go do so many other things instead.
Bummer.
usually
I’m a passionista. When I fall in love with something I fall….hard… whether it’s my job, or my dog, or my husband, or a new friend… I never question it or doubt it, it’s black or white.
Lately…I’m gray. What am I supposed to be passionate about right now? Where should all my effort be going? I can’t figure it out and that makes me…sad.
Being a bringger
When you grew up were you a buyer or a bringger? I feel like back then you were either one or the other…there were no bringgers who bought lunch a couple days a week…things were really black or white when it came to that.
I never was given money in the morning, nobody ever forgot to make my lunch. My mom made my lunch every night. Each fall I got to pick out a sweet new lunchbox (or lunch bag) that she would then fill for the next 9 months of school before sending me off. She used to sometimes write me notes, like, ‘good luck on your math test’ or ‘don’t forget you have a dentist appt at 2’. Sometimes on holidays she’d drop in a little gift. Valentines day I always got something little in my lunchbox.
As I got older and my brother got old enough to attempt making a sandwich, we decided to give mom a break and take turns making and packing eachothers lunches. We used brown paper lunch bags at this point and we’d try to give eachother little surprises in our lunch too. My brother’s sandwiches were good, but the 2 slices of bread were never perfectly laid on top of one another, always crooked, and the spread never covered the entire piece of bread, never quite made it to the edges, but it was made with love. Sometimes we’d even include little notes (thanks mom!) to one another. Ryan would finish making my lunch and find a pen from the junk drawer (which could be a whole other post of it’s own) and write my ‘lunch name’ on the bag, which somehow became L-Babe. His was Ry Guy. We started calling eachother by those nicknames as time went on.
It’s funny as you get older, because now even in the workforce there are quite obviously bringgers and buyers. My husband is a buyer. I on the otherhand, am a bringger. I still make my lunch the night before so it’s ready to go when I am in the morning. He goes out and buys lunch every day. He never brings, I rarely buy. I wonder if anyone has ever studied those that bring and those that buy..because to me it seems to really say something about a person. It’s GOT to, right?
The Wednesday past
Last Wednesday my parents were here. I went to the farmers market with them in the morning and took them to the adidas store for a little discount shopping where I bought myself some SWEET new predators. I skipped down the stairs just in time to hop in the car with Ryan and the parents to head to our soccer match.
Gary, Ryan and I all took the field. It was quite the family affair with Nanc on the sidelines cheering us on. We sweat, we passed the ball up the field to eachother, we egged eachother on. We lost, but it didn’t matter.
Like every week, I called Joe’s pizza from the field after our game and we picked up our pies on the way home. But this week it was four of us sitting around watching cooking shows and munching on NY pizza. Family makes things feel different. Bigger. Bigger than me. Bigger than the two of us. More important. That realization was important for me. It’s taken some time to understand what that feeling of family really is..and now that my parents are gone, I know what it is, simply, because it isn’t here anymore.
Family is warm. It’s like an all-day hug around your shoulders comforting you. Family is good food that is made with love or selected in the intent of showing love. Family is not selfish. Family is caring as much about the one sitting on your right as you do about the one sitting on your left. Family is irreplacable and invaluable and I am so grateful for mine.
Parents..and parenting
Lately Ryan and I have been talking a lot about parenting.. and the possibility of becoming parents someday, or someday soon, or… I mean, it’s a HUGE change, a giant leap of faith, and a total risk. All my life I knew I’d end up a mom. It seemed such an easy decision, creating something to love, someone to teach, someone to go out there in the world and do something good. Lately, as the realities of what that really means start to come up.. I wonder if it’s that easy of a choice.
On a separate note, my parents are coming this weekend (my mom and Gary). I think about how excited I am to see them and how I can’t wait to take them certain places and show them bits and pieces of my life. I also think about how it takes a long time to get to that point with your parents. As a kid, you spend much of your life complaining, telling your parents how unfair they are and comparing them to your friends parents and basically telling them how much they suck. At least that’s what it feels like in retrospect. I didn’t appreciate my parents until I was out of their house (lucky them!). It was only then that I realized the efforts they had gone through and the things they gave up just to have… ME (again, lucky them).
What if my kid hates me? What if he wants a tatoo and his dream is to ride a motorcyle? Will I still love him when he’s bringing home F’s on his report card? I mean, as a parent you can only try so hard, only bring your kids so far and then it’s up to them.
Most importantly, what if by creating a child..or 2..or 3.. Ryan and I are ultimately sacrificing our own relationship? When weekends away turn into weekends of early mornings and rushed breakfasts and soccer practice and a dance recital, will we still end the day on the couch together? Loving one another? Or will we let the stress and the constant child rearing get to us? Make us parents and not husband and wife?
10 years from now, childless, I can picture where Ryan and I will be, what we’ll be doing, what we’ll be talking about. 10 years from now, 2 kids… will we still be US? Could we somehow be better versions of us?
I wonder what percentage of married couples who don’t have kids, get divorced? I wonder if it’s less than those who do have kids…
My mom says that it doesn’t matter if you have enough money and that you’ll never think you have enough money for a child…but that you do. You find a way to make it work. And that having a child is the most rewarding thing you do in life, but I wonder if my dad feels the same. I mean.. my mom is a teacher, she loves kids and is patient and kind and it comes natural to her. I’m not exactly like that. Ask me today if I want kids…I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.
my brother and I haven't changed much..
My grandparents sent me something so funny today.. a letter my brother and I wrote them (probably about 13 years ago) with a business proposal. I believe it was typed on our archaic apple computer…
Proposal to: Roger Cardin
From: Lauren and Ryan Hughes
RE: the opening of the pool
Mr. Cardin,
Unfortunately both Mr. Hughes and myself have heard of your recent decision to delay the grand opening of your inground poolon17PlantRd. After some great thought and a few long discussions, we have decided to offer you a proposal you can ‘t tum down.We knew you would be wary about the pool usage while you are away from your home, so our first decision was to set a rule of no more than 5 people at the pool at one time, and that all children under the age of 18 must be supervised by an adult. Under no circumstances will there be alcoholic beverages or tobacco use on the premises. We next thought about the steps it would take to open the pool. I will be willing to work on that process for a day with you and Mr. Hughes has agreed to the same.
Most importantly the upkeep of the pool while you are gone: This includes vacuuming, checking the PH levels, changing the chlorine tablets, adding cool water, and skimming the pool. Also, an occasional cleaning of the lounge chairs on the cement surrounding the pool. (If there is anything I have forgotten please inform me) We have deducted that the pool should be skimmed everyday (7 times per week minimum) Also that it should be vacuumed once every week at the very least depending on the cleanliness of the pool itself. The chlorine tablets will be replaced whenever needed and the pool will be filled with water from the hose when the level looks low. Both Mr. Hughes and I will split the upkeep of the pool fairly and will never go against anything in this contract or it is understood that they will be sued for wrongful business.
We want to keep our clients happy, so to coincide with the cleaning of the pool we (Nancy Barden, Ryan Hughes, and I) have also agreed to pick strawberries for your wife while the two of you are gone . We know a happy wife means a happy husband! I know you will look over this agreement with much scrutiny, but Ryan and I feel that we have covered every base. Please take your time before making your decision and feel free to reach me at my home, 371-5379, or on my cellular phone, 542-7690.
Time Capsule
This isn’t news to anyone, but I am continually surprised by how a scent can be like a little time capsule in your mind. I was running this morning, unfortunately ended up behind a street cleaning machine (picture a zamboni but on cement). The smell of chlorine took me back to the days when I took swimming and lifeguard lessons. I remembered the suit I wore on those Saturday mornings, the awkward changing in the locker room, the overpowering smell of chlorine, so much so that it enveloped you in the warmth of it and made your eyes pink. I thought of swimming down the 15 feet to grab a 50lb brick and carry it back up to the top and how my lungs would burn on the way up and I always thought I just wouldn’t make it…but I always did.
Still pluggin away, I turned right to avoid the inevitable slip and fall on wet cement, which for my klutzy self is almost a gurantee. There was a man mowing the beautiful landscape that runs up and down ocean ave… as I ran over the grass clippings and the scent surrounded me, I was taken back to the days of good ole upstate NY. Although spring and summer seem all too short there, somehow the long days of moving the lawns seemed endless. It started with my grandfather. He had an OLD lawn mower..so old I think his grandfather used it. It had levers and smelled of gasoline. He’d let the grandkids take turns riding with him. We’d be hot and sweaty, covered in grass, but sitting so proudly on his lap as he did row after row of grass. When he went out, he went out for the day, to mow the lawnS. There were many. Then there was my dad at the first house we lived in that was the home for all of my childhood. He had a newer lawnmower and much less lawn to manage. As I remember, I see him in a baseball cap, a pair of cut off jean shorts and sweat. It was always so hot. I was so proud the day he let me do the lawn myself and I loved the neat even rows I could create if I paid enough attention. I soon realized I now had a new weekend job, while my dad could relax inside by the fan with a beer.
And now there is Gary, who happily takes over half of my grandfather’s chores. They split up the acres and acres of lawn to do and spend time discussing the best rotation, the amount of time to leave in between mows, when the next rain is set to come, etc.. I think everytime I call home to chat, ONE of them is out mowing.
It’s crazy to me that a scent can bring with it so much. I got done with my run and noticed I had spent the whole time reminiscing. If only all runs could go by so quickly.
My moleskin
Ryan and I did some cleaning a couple weeks ago…really digging through stuff we’ve kept for too long and stuff we need to keep but aren’t quite sure where to put it. He’s the kind of guy who still has his tax forms from 2004 and the copy of his lease from 2005…I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t know if I threw out that camera that was new but maybe broken, or remembers if I even DID my taxes in 2004.
Needless to say, it was fun to look through some old things. I found the card I gave Ryan on our first Valentine’s day and the note I wrote him for his 30th birthday before his surprise trip to Sayulita. Little did we know we’d be getting married there only a year later….
I also found my much coveted moleskins. I didn’t have one during my time at Jack Morton. I was too poor to buy one myself and too far down the totem pole to expense one. When I got to Translation the first they gave me was a blackberry…fresh out of the box, beautiful and new. I loved it. Next up, was a black moleskin with the Translation logo on it.The ruled paper worked perfectly to keep my penmenship just so, and I brought that trusty thing with me everywhere, keeping track of all sorts of important client comments and creative meetings. I went through 2 moleskins there. It’s strange because I literally went through exactly 2. The last pages of the second moleskin were the last days I spent at Translation.
When I came out to LA I needed to keep up the tradition. I went and got a moleskin for my new job at 180LA. I have filled 3 moleskins since then. I was writing in one today and realized there are only 4 pages left. Is it a sign? Will I write through the end of this one and get another in hopes of continuing this journey? Is it time to finish this moleskin and move on? Only time will tell.
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