Results tagged "Website"

Brooch production has been halted.

Because when I wasn’t busy trying to get my almost three year old to enter the local Montessori school, I was stressing myself out over at Mamapedia by allowing others to make me feel like a bad parent. Which I’m not… but I may as well fancy myself some sort of mental masochist because there’s no real reason for me to seek out the advice of others online when I’m already treating my Psychi Cortex like a punching bag. The portion of my brain that is associated with abstract thought and judgement. Because, yes — I sent my two year old to school even though he’s two going on three in approximately ten weeks, and he seemingly hates it. But we aren’t giving up. But we are. But we’re not. But we’ll see. But he’s too young. But he’s ready. But he says he wants to go. But he says he wants to stay home. But I want it to be okay to start drinking at 10am.

And here I am defining discouragement. Coming to terms with the fact that this might not work while turning this into something about me. I want my week back. I want summer. I hate school. I thought that running and closing a design firm, handling budgets and the lack thereof and dealing with the IRS was stressful. Not to mention the Gangsters, Madoffs and Shistas. Dudes, Montessori takes the flag pole AND the pledge of allegiance — boxes them up with a bunch of cinder blocks and other assorted grunkle, climbs to the 32nd floor and then drops the box on your head. And if one more preschool teacher gaze of “oh that kid” catches my eye, I might just lose my marbs ALL OVER circle time — but at least my brooch will be undoubtedly eye catching and oh so sweet.

AND IT WAS SO MUCH FUN?!?!
(how’s that for a segway to enlightenment?)

I blogged about the brooches.
I took in “orders”.
I continued to make brooches.
I wrapped them up.
I mailed them out.

I mailed them out to people that I barely know, some that I’ve known for most of my life and others that I have never met. And I did all of this free of charge and because I wanted to. It was probably the strangest thing that I’ve done lately, and yet beyond therapeutic during a time of random torture. And yes, manic, but totally worth it and I’ll do it again in a heart beat. So while the production has been put on hold for more important matters — like deciding the probable future of another human being. I can’t wait to keep going, so if you missed out or felt a little shy last time — SNAP OUT OF IT. I want to make you a brooch…. Just look at the results!

Absence!

Vapid!

Buggin!

Punker!

Duf!

Wicked!

Is there anything to gain from being fake?

I mean, I get it. You are a brand. You believe in the gimmick. You really do wear tutus all the time. You didn’t dye your hair neon pink for any other reason than to be noticed…  And, although we know you couldn’t help yourself, you decided to stand up and announce that you’re not a blogger… at a blogging conference. Do it. It’s fine. There is a fine line between absurd and obnoxious… but what the hell, we might be boobs, but we’re also adults — GO WITH IT. Because… although no one at BlogHer 2010 was really there to pay any attention to you… you made them do it anyway. I mean WHO do we think we are? Just a bunch of Hoo Haas hoping to glean a little knowledge from others that may or may not know what they are talking about? And, I mean, the schtick might be funny… but say it one more time, and I might just take your tagline and smother you with it. Because if blogging wasn’t the topic of choice at BlogHer 2010 — being fake was a definite runner up… a bunch of bloggers (among some great bloggers, mind you) trying to get other bloggers to read their blogs… let alone the general public (hi there public, I love you!) And, while I am considering how to handle this delicate egg of a situation, its occurring to me that one teeny tiny incident needs to be addressed.

I met some amazing people at BlogHer, there is absolutely no question about that… people that I have been connecting with for months… Like minded thinkers, life partners, accomplices… That… Okay granted, I just met on Friday… But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? — Right? And when I was all juiced up and giddy about having met these awesome people, that really turned out to be people… Another person that knows me through the internet… who happens to be internet-loved by many and someone that I’ve collaborated with recently, someone that I’ve…And boom. Crash. “I think I know you”, taking my card as I explained who I am and how she knows me, not looking me in the eye, grasping the ever distracting cell phone, backing away… Knowing exactly who I was and, although I might be a deranged lunatic with my tongue hanging out of my nose, I was snubbed. Shot Down. Ignored. WHAT JUST HAPPENED? Did the conference room just sprout lockers and a gym teacher named Rose? Because if I’m not mistaken, 10th grade just started ALL OVER AGAIN… And as she walked to the table at the front of the room with the other panel speakers, I thought… Huh, she just did that. She did that knowingly and on purpose. And immediately, she was exposed. I then sucked my tongue back into my mouth and cartwheeled out of the room.

Later on that day my friends and I huddled together discussing the situation while a woman behind us twisted her neck in the most unusual ways in an attempt to eavesdrop. Aside from the subject not knowing much about public speaking… did she know what she had just done? Maybe it was nerves, because yes. I am THAT INTIMIDATING. Perhaps not. Maybe. Yes. No. It’s possible.. But before over-analyzing, and since we were finished braiding each others hair… we moved on to more important experiments… like holding a sex toy close to me to see what would happen… because don’t all writing conferences hand out free sex toys? We then went back to snarling and growling about other topics like lactation rooms, while I beamed with pride over the honesty being displayed.

And what happens to someone that goes from being one individual on the internet to another person in real life? From being the man behind the curtain to the lady that really likes to write her website address all over her own cleavage? Do they actually believe themselves? And if so, how long do they think that we will continue to buy it? I’m holding it out there for you to answer… because while I was hoping for a group hug of Bloggers of the World Unite, I now have to wonder how genuine the typing is until I meet you face to face…

In the spring of 2005 my former design studio was in the midst of a new business partnership–And about a year into it, things were going very well. I managed all aspects of design while my partner handled most of the business side and website programming. We were approached by a Client, one that we had previously developed an ad campaign for. Although he was a builder by trade, he had a grand idea–a new publishing venture– a new Hamptons based publication. This was to be a glossy but sophisticated glimpse of life on the East End of Long Island… The beauty and artistic nature; the earth’s core of what makes our location so unique–beyond the fame, night clubs and society parties. It was a great idea, but it wasn’t just a project — it was a whole new company and it was up to us to recreate this vision.

“That’s that Hawaiian burger joint. I hear they got
some tasty burgers.“

And
so we set off… A small group was formed and–considering that none of
us had any experience in such a start-up–meetings were ridiculous.
Topics ranged from font sizes to distribution to what’s for lunch–Hey
someone call and get us a table for dinner… drinks, laughs…. There
was nothing very serious about what was going on — except that someone
was beginning to spend unthinkable amounts of money. There were city dinners,
Hampton Classic Tables, meetings with minor celebrities, random gifts,
parties… You name it. Personally, I stayed out of most of the
debauchery.. not my style, but what I saw happening was grandiose, and
we hadn’t even published an issue yet. Admittedly, I turned a blind eye
on the spendatures… I was being placated with visions of success. 
Never ending dollars–someone, somewhere out there was funding us. 

“Mmm-mmmm.
That is a tasty burger.“

Upon
the publishing of our first issue (Memorial Day 2006), my business
partner very suddenly decided to take his exit. We had been moving at a
fast pace, and I know things in his personal life were changing… but
we were right there — on the threshold of what we had been working so
hard for. Before things became unpleasant, he told me that he would be
happy to stay in the partnership but could not be associated with the
owner of the magazine anymore and therefore couldn’t have anything to do with
the project. He then went one step further to insinuate that he had
attempted to sabotage the whole operation by not completing the
publication’s website in time for a nationally televised plug on a syndicated morning show. Horrified, I resented him immediately and requested his
departure. There were some legal dealings for a few months, and then he
was gone. I immersed myself, once again, in the creative development of
the next 8 issues, collateral and other projects of the design firm.

“But
I do love the taste of a good burger. Mm-mm-mm.”

A
few issues in — things were looking good. Advertising was a stretch,
but we were gaining readers so the owner decided to up the distribution
to include NYC and scattered Barnes & Nobles from Philadelphia to
Boston. He also started making hiring and firing decisions on a weekly
basis as well as salary increases. Money was still being spent like
there was no end… and I continued to not question where it was coming
from–Honestly, I had an idea, but didn’t really want to know. Mostly women were hired and referred to as “the gals at the
office”… Along with this came rumors of the owner’s various infidelities. He
had become a friend, however, so I dismissed ideas that this “family
man” was capable of such behavior. After much discussion, a proposition
was verbally offered to me — make my design firm part of the overall
magazine in exchange for lofty partnership shares in the company as
well as a top tier executive role… I mean we were going to be picked
up soon by Time Warner or Condé Nast for a few million, right? “Where
do
I sign?” “Oh – the contract is being drawn up… let’s just get
started running your financials through the magazine on Jan 1 to avoid
tax problems” “Oh, Okay.”….

I’m not one of those people
that runs outside to see upon being told that ‘the sky is falling’…
Thing is that I had a business partner going into this whole thing
and really didn’t like running the design firm on my own. I thought I
had thought it through — and I sincerely trusted this man.

“You
know what they call a Quarter Pounder with cheese in France?”

I continued to not only direct, design and layout and occasionally edit every issue
that was going to press, I was also managing clients that the design
firm catered towards… it was too much. I asked for help, but funds
were becoming tight, what with the Christmas party coming up and all.
There were major politics at hand– cut throat… people being thrown
under the bus on a daily basis. It was all consuming. It was so
consuming, in fact, that I can’t remember
very much of what was happening in my personal life at the time. At
some point I renewed my passport, went on vacations–blackberry in hand,
and… early in 2007 became pregnant. My husband and I  — our
families, everyone was ecstatic. I did the whole waiting thing — not
telling anyone at the publication until I had made through the
first-tri to the safety zone…  

“A Royale with
cheese.”

Around
the same time as my exciting personal news, the publisher was let go
due in fact to his alleged marking up of printing costs, reimbursable
expenses and, in short, embezzlement. A new publisher, formerly a sales
“gal”, decided to push editorial and creative to focus on fashion and
NYC– not so much local… And the owner had, in fact, left his family
life and had taken up with a newly hired editor — another gal from the
office. I do not claim to be a saint–far from it actually, but I was
caught up in a whirlwind of disgusting behavior. I decided to, once
again, turn a blind eye and work until the baby–then retire…
But
wait, people were not getting paid. Why stay?
But wait, he has my
company.
It
was a Friday in April and I requested a meeting with him… Still no
contract, fashion, crazy egos, and by the way I’m pregnant… He
replied “you are the last of the Mohicans… I’m not doing this
without you.”
A nice hug, so proud — happy for you and yours… Later that same day,
he called to yell at me about the website not being finished.. I
explained that our programmer was up to his ears in Client projects…
projects that were making us money. He accused me of mismanagement and
suggested that I resign. After a good cry, I called and asked his
office manager to let him know that he could expect my resignation on
Monday. Apparently, she handed him my message on a post-it. He then
denied ever suggesting such a thing.

“You mind if I
have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down?”

It ended quickly–June 2007, like a band-aid being
torn off. After fights — crying, yelling, demanding… it was apparent
that I was out. The owner stopped speaking to me and instead sent
threatening emails or verbal rants through the publisher. I don’t know
why I waited– still designing…. but eventually decided to pull my
company out of it all — I kept my employees at the crazy salaries that
he had given them. We were once again a design firm.  He threatened to
“come after me”. He had his lawyer insist that I pay  him back all of
the money he spent on my company when in fact he owed me a great deal
in back pay. There was never a contract, however, and his
actions–unspeakable emails and threats spoke louder than any half-baked
lawsuit. In March of 2008 they offered to let me design for them again
until I had worked back the money that they thought I owed–thus lifting the threat
of having them actually sue me. I politely declined and haven’t heard
from them since…

“Ah, hit the spot.”

And then it was over. They continued to publish up until
the fall of 2008–I would pick up an issue here and there… still
beautiful, but dry and typical. There are rumors of what transpired
over the past years since I left… and many posts
online.. but factual? Who knows. I often wonder if it will reappear should the publishing world see a resurgence. People still tell me different stories
on almost a weekly basis.

What
I do know to be true is slightly unbelievable… My original business
partner in the design firm, as it turns out, was already partners with
the owner of the magazine when I went into business with him and had
been for years. The two of them were also partners with another man and
were dividing up shares of their other various businesses. When the man
I partnered with walked from the publication–they went after him to
retrieve his shares of everything and from what I’ve heard — a great
deal of his money. Therefore, the owner of the publication, his
business partners–including my partner were actually making money off
of my designs for the year before the publication project ever came up.

The owner of the publication– I mentioned, was a friend. We
allowed him into our lives–he took my husband to ball games, took us
out for dinners… invited us to spend time with his family. On many
occasions, he suggested that we invest in one of his many properties..
We never would have, but always acted interested and requested business
plans, which never surfaced. He was so interested in us – my husband
and I –that it was almost too much, but I never wanted to disappoint
him when it came to the magazine. Friendship was the booze they were selling, and I was drunk… while in the end, I’m just a graphic designer.

Let me preface this entry by making a huge excuse for the spoilage of my son, Will. Aside from his inherent awesomeness and beyond this planet cuteness, he is also currently the only Grandson with one set of Grandparents, and a 3rd Grandchild to the other set. He is also a Nephew to my two sisters and my husband’s siblings – two sisters and a brother… not to mention the endless sea of extended family that we all love and adore. Then there are the friends… Wow, we sound like the most popular kids in school, right? Not.

In Will’s vast lifetime of 2 years… I think that Mr. Sal and I have purchased–at the most–10% of his belongings… toys and clothing… All the rest have been bestowed upon us by our loving collection of friends and family… The toys that have truly turned our home into a playhouse… and the clothing… MY GOD THE CLOTHING. Honestly, we love it… so if you are reading this… please DO NOT STOP… But during the holidays… it does beg the question as parents… What to buy?… I turned to Mari @ Small for Big, a friend that I am stalking whose website I am slightly obsessed with… I love Mari’s picks because the items are all dollar friendly, somewhat green and are usually created with an AWESOME design sense… I might just buy a few things for myself to display as our Holiday centerpiece.. Regardless, I’m sure by the end of this list I will have spent it all–sorry to the rest, it’s all for Will this year… Take it away Mari!…

When I sent out my request to help shop for the kids dear to you this holiday season, little did I realize Ry’s response would be: “what do I get for the boy who has everything?” Hmm. That’s one of those tough ones isn’t it. And with the grandparents’ tendencies to spoil kids rotten (we love it though, right?) I think the phenomenon is pretty common.

So, I thought I’d help her out with some of my favorites for a 2 year old boy who happens to like trucks, trains, blocks puzzles, and balls. There’s something in every price range here – and some great things for girls too.

Magic Gertie Ball – Many parents already know the wonders of the easy to grasp, easy to inflate Gertie Ball.  But the Magic Gertie is special – remember Hypercolor clothes in the 80′s? It’s baaaaaack.  (This is much better than my HS choir teacher and his hypercolor shorts. Not Kidding.)

Stacking Cone – An Act Two twist on the classic stacker – it’s definitely harder than your standard version – for the puzzler side of Mr. Will.

Billibo – A toy beyond explanations. Because it’s creative potential is best unlocked by a kid (hat? Rocker? Pail? Sled? Something never seen before?) This one made Small for Big’s theWANTlists this year.

Dexterity Stellina Color Sorting Puzzle – Mr. Will can find hours of puzzling choices with this crazy star-shaped shape/size/color sorter.

Douglas, from Monster Factory – Because every single monster at the Monster Factory is worthy of Mr. Will’s love, but I could only pick one.

Switchback Racetrack -  A vertical way to get your fix of racing, crashing, and little boys’ squealing.

Dalmation’s Choice Fire Engine – The Cadillac (sorry, fire truck) of ride-ons. It’s a retro classic to keep for the grandchildren. It has to be for that price.

Thanks Mari!–To follow up, en-route to our house via Santa’s sled (PS did you know that if Santa actually went as fast as he would have to go to reach all the children of the world in one night, his sled would burst into flames? sorry.)…

• Billibo – I’m just so curious to see how Will approaches this thing…
• Dexterity Stellina Color Sorting Puzzle – He loves puzzles!…
• Switchback Racetrack – Hours of predictable fun…
• Douglas, from Monster Factory – Honestly… ALL FOR ME, ALL ME – do you think Douglas drinks? Kinda looks like a Patrón man… shots anyone?

Guest Bird #9 – Melissa

Melissa Taylor is a mom, teacher and freelance writer. Melissa loves writing about her passions — education and parenting. She blogs at Imagination Soup http://imaginationsoup.net , a fun and easy learning activities for inquisitive kids. Her writing portfolio is on her website http://melissatayloronline.com.

Another day and my kid has out styled me again.  And what a style.  We’re talking so many patterns it’s a knock you down dizzying effect.  But the topper is the pink cowgirl boots.  People all day long stop us to compliment the pink boots.  Really, it’s excessive.  Perhaps a bit ego inflating for my young impressionable child.  “Everyone likes my boots, mom,” she says to me happily.

Guest Bird #5 – Mari

I’m Mari (rhyme that with Atari, not Gary, thank you). I’m so happy to have a place to ramble on and on and on and on, without having to post about the things I post about at my usual blog – Small for Big. Hope you’re ready for that Ry!
 

I’ve been looking forward to writing a post for days, but I keep running out of time – or more importantly, I keep forgetting it because of all the other random little things that take up my time. They keep pushing the writing aside. So now that I’m actually pushing all the other things aside, it seemed appropriate to write about the random business that is my life.
 

I mean, come on, I no longer have a day job! (lost that to a lay off in April) I should have oodles of time! The problem is, I forget to account for the 10 month old nipping at my heels. Ok, she’s a baby not a puppy, but she does nip at everything. My daughter is definitely a time-muncher. In my new life as a Work-At-Home-Mom (though the work is rather sporadic, see above) I’ve been eating up interviews with other Designer/Etsy/Artsy moms who all seem to agree: when your children are awake, your focus is on them. I agree, in theory. But in practice there’s always one more email, one more website, a little more to draw, and on my lazy days, a bit more TV to watch. The bigger issue is my Over Achiever brain (I blame that tendency on my liberal arts Undergraduate Degree) (and of course I said Undergraduate because I’m an OA and I also have a Graduate Degree). As an OA, I forget about the reality of the day’s schedule and assume I can get 10 things done. Instead, I should be choosing 1. Then, at 10:30 PM when I finally decide to give in and watch some bad Conan O’Brien (and I think he’s getting worse) I might actually be able to say I accomplished something.
 

I had an old boss who used to email herself the top 5 things she’d accomplished at the end of every week. She used them as a record for reviews later on. But when I managed to copy her practice for a couple of months, I found it actually helped me remember what I’d been doing. Actually, as I think about it, I’d bet a lot of my “time management” issues stem from my inability to remember anything.
 

Anyway, the end of all of this rambling is this. I’ve decided to try out a “master” schedule.  Because the larger problem – larger than over-scheduling my days – is that it appears I’ve chosen to focus on 5 different career paths. Blogger, Freelance Designer, Artist, (future) Etsy Shop Owner, and Mom. We’ll analyze the feasibility of that at another time. Given that the work week has 5 days in it, I’ve decided to pick a focus for each day. In the order listed above. Obviously I’ll still be all of those things – Mom in particular – on all of those days, but let’s see if choosing one thing at a time can help me make some progress. I’ll let you know how it’s going.

In the Hamptons, they make the sex-offenders stay west of the Shinnecock Canal. There, I said it. Do you think this is discriminatory? If so tough cookies. Yeah, I said TOUGH COOKIES. And, according to today’s news — they are thinking of moving “them” even further west– out of the Hamptons completely. I ordinarily wouldn’t bring up such a scary horrible topic, but the land mass that makes up the Eastern End of Long Island is increasingly populated and super thin, and made of sand. Just sand and pine trees. Pine trees that make up crazy unbelievable Pine Barrens. Pine Barrens that catch on fire. Pine Barrens that are so thick that it takes a few days for people to realize that they are on fire. Pine Barrens where the bodies will never be found. And they are viral. I could go into my back yard with a bucket of sand, pour it out and place a pine cone in it–Give it a few weeks, and boom…my very own Pine Barren. But I have better things to do with my time– like worry about the increasing number of sex-offenders that live down the street from my family. Maybe Royal Pains could do an episode about that? Brilliant. Then maybe the rest of the universe will realize that the Hamptons are just like everywhere else in America–polka dotted with clusters of shunned criminals in need of and not getting serious help. Oh but wait, healthcare for everyone will solve this problem too, right? Thank God Super Grover is on the way.

I can feel you frowning. I know this is an odd way to re-introduce For the Birds to the internet, but I just wanted to make the point of the matter ahead of the game. I live in the Hamptons — and life here is undoubtedly weird, but isn’t it where you live too? This website covers a few things. Me, because I am who I am; Graphic Design, because its something that I know all about; Breakwater Design, because it is the bain of my current existence; And my family. Almost Daily Observations on life in general. So, when I was notified a few weeks back about the number of “visitors” that had been reading this site, I did two things… I laughed really hard, because I mean seriously–MY FOOT do people care. And then I sought some real advice. What now?

After finding said advice, it was made clear to me that For the Birds wasn’t doing anything. It was just sitting there. It wasn’t easy to find. It wasn’t “searchable” AND it was never going to be unless I made some serious changes. And so, aside from the fact that THOUSANDS of people found us, it was brought to my attention that there are MORE PEOPLE OUT THERE. Oxygen, I need oxygen… It wasn’t easy – it was quite painful to sort through the gears and wiring… but when I came up for air it was looking good. Then, after a few short pricks of Botox, it all came together…and here it is. What do you think?

PS. To Pavel at Firmdot–Thank you. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for letting me yell at you (sorry..again). And Thank you for all of the great work! You are my new Batman. (and Robin too!). If I had your mailing address I’d send you an edible bouquet.

Year one has passed!

I began publishing For the Birds on this date circa 2008–wow oh wow have things changed since. Initially, For the Birds was to be a marketing tool for Breakwater Design Studio, and although it does serve that purpose, FTB has also opened up whole new worlds for me… Writing and Internet Social Media. Once shunned–Facebook and Twitter are now common tools that promote, engage… Once feared, writing a very public diary of almost daily observations has given me a personal boost that I never could have imagined… Sharing accounts with readers who then become friends with common interests and concerns… And then my favorite — sharing our lives with existing friends and family scattered all over the world. In short, connections have become a way of life and For the Birds has allowed my family and I to have a mini piece of the pie–actively participating on an almost daily basis.

So, I guess that I need to thank me for jumping into a way of life that I never knew possible… but — as I take my place at the podium to accept the award for 2009 Ego of the Year–I really thank all the readers… to date a shocking 23,247–even those that hit the website and went “what the f is this” and x’d the browser out… I have kept my word and emailed everyone back that has commented–and I have kept most comments private… knowing that privacy is still a major player in the evolution of For the Birds.

On another note, I really want to acknowledge a few other blogs out there that have given me the courage to share in this open forum… In no particular order:

Dooce
Mighty Girl
Suburban Bliss
Gotham Gal
Designing Moms

I don’t think that any of these authors are aware of me or how much they have influenced… If they were aware–I’m sure that restraining orders would be issued. At any rate, I read their posts with the hope that someday FTB will boast it’s own URL (damn you–you evil birders at forthebirds.com) and claim a regular readership. Until that day–keep stopping by–I promise generous helpings of almost daily observations… blood, sweat, tears all mixed with a fine selection of mundane tribulations.

PS. If you want to hear me talk more (The floodgates! Typepad you’re killing me!)–visit me at Twitter.