DSM plus a pinch of sugar cooked for 10 minutes at 85 degrees makes some DIN

micquelle: hey stranger

Amie: howd you get online? does the corp have a hole in the ole fire wall?

micquelle: oh we don't care about that shiz here

micquelle: i have everything

micquelle: rhapsody, pandora, FB, YIM, trIlion, itunes...

micquelle: however, currently I'm unable to login to the server, can't print to the color machine and have to reboot to fix a license recovery bug in my INDD. Nice.

Amie: huh? that is why you're never on IM?

Amie: i never see you

micquelle: i'm on every day

micquelle: s. and i use it here in the office

micquelle: it auto boots when i turn on my machine

Amie: so why don't i ever see you? that is weird

Amie: you're not on my list

Amie: micquelle

Amie: do you think i'm insane

micquelle: maybe

micquelle: send me another request

Amie: for sanity

Amie: may I have sanity?

Amie: i think i have you added now

Amie: i meant the insane thing for reals

micquelle: oh, well, i don't know. i bought a DSM over the weekend at an estate sale...we can check

Amie: what is a DSM

Amie: is that a time machine

micquelle: yeah. a time machine. and i'm still here? i don't think so.

Amie: i'm hot today

micquelle: It is the bible of diagnosis for the psychiatric profession

micquelle: me, too. i'm never going to make it through summer. i thought i was going to self-imolate yesterday

Amie: self imolate?

Amie: does the DSM have quizzes

micquelle: how about spontaneously combust? kind a the same thing.

micquelle: no quizzes.

micquelle: that's Psychiatry for Dummies.

Amie: okay, i just looked up self immolate

Amie: i can't breath

Amie: i'm laughing

Amie: too hard

Amie: can't type

micquelle: it wasn't really the right phrase, but you get the idea.

micquelle: hey, wanna be on the PR committee for Juvenile Diabetes Foundation?

Amie: sure

Amie: i like sugar

Amie: it's all i've eaten so far today

Amie: apple sauce and OJ

micquelle: really?

Amie: really

micquelle: i'll let them know.

Amie: about my menu for the day, or that i'll be on the club

micquelle: the club

micquelle: board

micquelle: whatever

Accomplish without a plan - Tao of the day

My favorite part of my job is planning. (She said with wicked sarcasm)

Truth. I am good at *parts* of planning. I love the brainstorming. And I often wish, when things pan out, I was chewing on a cigar so I could say "I love it when a plan comes together."

I am NOT good at the planning parts of planning. Meaning the charts and graphs that show project phases, status updates, and time lines. Just tell me what the due date is, and I will deliver (approximately). To me, a big project is an iterative process that evolves constantly, so once it's on paper, it's old. New ideas enter, or the strategy changes, or it turns into something completely different. Do you want to spend your time updating your plan, or executing on the project so you can get to that cigar?

This works alright when you're employed by a small company of agile individuals willing to trust without knowing the exact details of how, or when they will receive something worth chewing a cigar over. (Well, somewhat willing to trust. I can think of a few that didn't much like my modus operandi. You put up with it though. Thanks.)

Well, darn it. Wouldn't you know that now I am on the receiving end of what it was like to work with me? I can't even do the fun stuff of planning, the researching and brainstorming. I'm in the dark. I wish someone would invent a jump drive that I could plug into a cranium portal, either your ear hole or nostril, you pick (ha ha) and download *the vision.*

"Touche!" my mother would say, "the universe is teaching you a lesson."

Well, the plan is due tomorrow. I'm frustrated with the old me, and thinking, what would I have done if I used to work with the old me? At frustrating times like this, I pull out the pocket Tao te Ching and read the first verse I see when I open it. Check it out:

73
The Tao is always at ease.
It overcomes without competing,
answers without speaking a word,
arrives without being summoned,
accomplishes without a plan.

Its net covers the whole universe.
And though its meshes are wide,
it doesn't let a thing slip through.

Whoa! There's the plan! Now all I need to do is slap this thing onto a PowerPoint presentation with some bullets and I'm good to go with my plan for 2010!

2010 Communications Plan
- Win market awareness by focusing our communications on why we help customers vs. just proving how we are different from our competitors
- Use innovative communication methods to convey how we answer to customer needs
- Let our desire to answer customer needs summon our path, don't let industry noise carve our activities
- Communicate our message to the whole universe - cast a wide net
- If everyone knows about us, nothing can slip by us

Phew, i feel so at ease now!

Tree art - part one

I scanned a painting BSJ did of a tree. The original image is in vivid color, but I find it interesting how my inability to use our snappy new scanner/copier at work made a completely different image from the original.

It just goes to show that art does not emerge from a vacuum. Creativity isn't synonymous with unique. Art comes from one's ability to make interesting combinations.

This is reassuring because there is a lot of pressure for humans to be unique in all the world. We must come up with original ideas to identify ourselves, otherwise we won't stand out, or shine.

True creativity is how clever you are at observing and combining everything around you into something interesting.

For this reason, I am trying to get out of my head more often to have a looksie at what's around. You'd be surprised at the amount of material out there for creating fantastic art.

Laugh for today

New Yorker cartoons span the humor landscape. I reckon a psychologist could do a personality assessment of someone just based on their favorite New Yorker cartoons.

For me, some cartoons are just mediocre, some go right over my head, some are just too silly to be funny, and some are just so damn funny the moment I see them I wonder what is wrong with me.

This cartoon by Sam Gross made me laugh so much I don't need to do ab work at the gym today. And I can't really explain why I think it's so funny. I must get the Custom Boxed Cartoon Note Cards from the New Yorker Store.

Ivan’s stress assessment theory proven during episode of insomnia

Between 2 and 4 am is a strange window of time when I've had just enough sleep to feel physically rested, but not enough to feel mentally reset. I've tried all sorts of techniques to go back to sleep. Many friends have recommended their tactics. I now just give in, and do the one thing physicians don't recommend; I grab my iPhone from under my pillow and start reading the headlines.

Today it was the Telegraph UK's slide show of the World's Weirdest Festivals. Alas, my poor husband is not immune to my insomnia and has to bare with me while I read to him some of the strangest, most idiotic stuff I've ever heard. It went something like this:


Amie: The Testicle Festival - Over 21’s only. Around 6,500 people are expected to attend the 27th annual Testicle Festival at Rock Creek Lodge in Montana. It's a strictly adults-only affair, as although the festivities revolve around the theme of eating bull’s testicles, or ‘Rocky Mountain Oysters', visitors should expect oil wrestling, wet t-shirt competitions and lots of public nudity; 'No Panty Wednesday' sees punters offered a free drink in exchange for their underwear.

BSJ: What a bunch of idiots. Who wants to be naked around people you wouldn't even talk to on a bus.

Amie: Noche de Rábanos (Night of the Radishes) - In the 16th century, after radishes were brought to the Americas, vegetable sellers used to make sculptures of radishes to advertise in the markets. Since 1897 the custom has been celebrated with an annual festival, with the best sculptors awarded cash prizes.

BSJ: Carved out of radishes? like in salads?

Amie: Räbechilbi Turnip Festival - Over twenty tonnes of carved turnips and fifty thousand candles are displayed in this Swiss festival celebrating the humble turnip. The event includes parades of illuminated houses and plenty of music and entertainment.

BSJ: more vegetables

Amie: Boryeong Mud Festival - First staged in 1998, the Boryeong Mud Festival now attracts more than a million visitors to the South Korean city. Said to be rich in minerals, the mud for the festival is trucked in to Daecheon Beach for tourists and locals to enjoy.

BSJ: snoring

Amie: The Baby Jumping Festival - First staged in 1620, this strange event celebrating Corpus Christi sees grown men dressed as the Devil leaping over a row of babies lying in the street.

BSJ: (yelling like someone just tore off one of his fingernails) That is bullshit. That isn't true. What the Fu-no way! (Amie shows picture). What if he trips? Do you know what a 150 pound guy could do to a baby? What a bunch of F*#king idiots. I'd rather eat sheep balls in Montana with a bunch of ugly naked asses.

****

This blog post helps illustrate Ivan's stress assessment tool for better life balance. You see, life can be very sensational. It's hard to determine when it's appropriate to freak out, or just be cool.


Ivan works in the IT support department for a small company. He sees way more unnecessary freaking out than the average person. He has witnessed me melt down the night before "the biggest day of my career." It was in a lifeless, San Francisco-based, hotel-board-room-turned-temporary-corporate-HQ. Hovering over my laptop like it was a sick baby, I said, with the most hideous, trying-to-be-calm tone, "it just won't turn on."

I was freaked. He was cool. He pushed a button. The computer turned on. I know what you're thinking: ID10T


Years later, I ask. What's the secret? Turns out he kinda had this epiphany one day. What's most important? Babies. If babies are being hurt, then do some freaking, otherwise, be cool.


So, anytime your cortisol levels start to rise, ask yourself: are any babies being hurt?


And now we know this works. Cause your cortisol levels really do rise if you're half asleep and hear wind of any tomfoolery festival that puts baby's lives at stake like a bunch of bowling pins waiting for a dumb ass to strike.

The view of the Arno is yours.

Dear readers (AKA Amie's small group of highly esteemed friends whom I wish I could hang out with all the time if I didn't have a damn mortgage).

If you haven't read the book, or seen the movie, "A Room With A View." Please do in May, 2009. Even if you have read, or seen this movie. Do it again. In May.

It's important. I can't explain why. It might have something to do with this line from the film:

I have a pet theory about Miss Honeychurch. Is it not odd that she should play Beethoven with such passion and live so quietly? I suspect that one day...
...music and life will mingle.

How do you like your eggs?

Eggs in a basket circa 1973.

















David Lynch style.
















Like they were made in Nigella's kitchen.

The TP Report on Tissue - part 2

If you've followed thus far, you'll recall the first TP Report on Tissue detailed how to prepare for your inevitable role as shoulder to cry on. In part two, and last of this series, we'll focus on the TP, the toilet paper.

After the incident in part 1, I left the office to check into the Omni Parker House Hotel in Boston. Tired and puffy-eyed, I knew my aura looked less-than-stellar when there was universal agreement among the check-in staff when I requested a room far, far away from the elevators.

"They make a lot of noise."
"Yes, Ms. Amie, we understand. That shouldn't be a problem."
"Thank you."
"You're so welcome. No problem. No problem at all. Our pleasure."

Then, I walked, and walked and walked down a long, Barton Fink-like corridor toward my room. Entered. Flicked on the light. Dumped my luggage.

"Man I gotta pee!" Flicked on the bathroom light and THIS:



Isn't it beautiful?

In my quandary of hopelessness that bordered on self-loathing, I was saved. By a roll of toilet paper wrapped in a lovely pink ribbon.

The takeaway?

Besides the odd, yet effective way this hotel made me feel like a million bucks. I realized that toilet paper wrapped in a beautiful pink ribbon was the solution what made me cry in part one. I'm in PR. I know how to go the extra mile. I know that sometimes it's not so much the message, it's how the message is delivered. I know this, and still let a project-gone-bad get the better of me, and my attitude.

Whether your starting a new job, or trying to hold onto the job you have while the economy tanks. Now is the time to pull out the stops when it comes to presentation. It is the only thing that differentiates you. It may be even be more important than the actual work. After all, I am talking about Toilet Paper here.

My resolution for 2009? "The Amie PR Campaign." Or, "Rolls and Rolls and lots-o-bows."