You may have noticed a dearth of posts lately. I have been a sucktastic blogger. There is no question.
Allow me to explain why. Ad agencies are notorious for working their employees crazy, long hours. Grad schools are known for doing the same to their students...what do you get when you combine the two? A nervous breakdown about every other day, otherwise known as my life for the past few months.
I have had the wonderful pleasure of working as a full time strategist at BBDO West (mostly on fun dog food brands) and also participating in some really cool capstone classes at the Academy of Art.
Finals were over a couple of Fridays ago (the last finals of my academic career! Hooray!) and Memorial Day weekend came just in time to offer some much needed reprieve.
Shane and I decided to get the hell out of the city and get back to nature with a camping trip. Unfortunately, so did everyone else in California. Finding an impromptu campsite was impossible...until we fell upon this little gem:
Sara, Jon, Anna-you guys remember this? New Brighton State Beach! A cliff of eucalyptus groves overlooking a beautiful beach. Somehow, in my memory it was so much more romantic. Our reality this weekend was more like...we paid a fee to rent a backyard for a weekend of backyard camping.
It was still great. We got lots of sun, gorged on rich foods, and laughed late into the night by the campfire. It was also Finn's first camping trip! Apparently he sees it as an indignity to endure only because we love it.
I can't wait to go on a real hike and camping trip soon. Just as soon as I undo some of the damage that my veal pen...ahem, I mean desk job, has done to my muscle tone.
OK. It's been too long since a post. Good reason, I swear. I have been busy doing the work that I love. More on that next blog post.
For now:
While I was at work researching great examples of love, I, of course, came across that great love story of the 90's--Titanic.
This seemed like a ready example that many people could identify with. This movie moved millions of people across the world to go the theaters again and again, form fan clubs, and shed tears. Great. Easy story for me to share...until I realized I have NEVER seen this movie. I don't even know the plot points (other than that the ship goes down and Leonardo DiCaprio probably dies).
So, I turned to my bestie, Tai, hoping she could give me the low-down on this great love story:
The fact is, I never wanted to see it as a teenager, as a sort of act of rebellion against all things blatantly pop culture. I now listen to Britney Spears with barely a hint of shame.
So the question is, now that I am over my adolescent distaste for trite should I bother with this movie and Netflix it?
My bff, Tai, frequently mentions the things she is lusting after on her blog (because she is thankfully a Mormon who is unafraid of filthy lucre) so I decided I might as well share some of my own worldly desires.
My latest yearning is for these:
That's right. Doc Martens. Tres 1998, I know.
The thing is, I have kind of been wanting some Docs since last year, right before I left for LA. They seemed like the perfect urban hiking boot for the San Francisco streets, in general I love having my foot cradled in a solid boot, and they had been out of fashion long enough that no one would think I honestly thought they were cool, thus also possessing a certain anti-cool appeal.
Apparently, my desire to be subversive manifests itself in massive geekiness. This is why I wore blazers in high school (long before that damned blazers and jeans trend fired up) and why I have been wearing grandpa cardigans since I was 18 (also long before everyone and their dog started wearing grandpa cardigans, dammit!).
On that note, a great tragedy has recently struck my home: my favorite cardigan--the blue cashmere one with the cowl neck that totally drowns me--is officially dying.
Exhibit A
Exhibit B
For those of you who know me well, this cardie has seen me through many frumpy days, many profound conversations over hot cocoa, and many long painting sessions in drafty studios.
I will have to find a new frumpy, comfy sweater, but it will never be the same as this thrift store gem.
Back to the Docs. So the pretension of LA forbade the wearing of clunky Docs, but now that I am back in SF it's a different story, right? Imagine my horror when I found that Docs and Doc-like boots have made a dramatic resurgence amongst the hipster set of my new-found home in the Mission!
While apparently Docs are still anathema in the hipster Bible (Vice magazine), it's only a matter of time....
What do you guys think? I found a pair online for $80. Should I get the boots and risk looking like I am following an emerging hipster trend?
The fact that I hate looking like I am following trends closely probably reveals how prideful I really am. So there. I have confessed and revealed my vanity and pride, hopefully achieving a measure of catharsis and exoneration.
…speaking of Diane Rehm, I was just listening to an amazing interview on the Diane Rehm Show with Elizabeth Gilbert. I really loved her previous bestseller, Eat, Pray, Love, which really spoke to me, as someone trying to find spirituality and a sense of wholeness in this life without being shackled to the dogma of denominations. She is also a wonderfully frank and insightful writer that manages to pepper humor into even the most dire and serious of circumstances.
Her newest book, Committed is an exploration of the Western idea of marriage. Much to her reluctance, her own life circumstances have pushed her to marry the man that she loves, even though they are quite happy to live without the document of marriage.
In her interview, Liz talks about the wild, unrealistic expectations we put on marriage and the strange respect we seem to give anyone who has entered the institution, even though the act of getting a wedding license is one of the simplest things to do. Why have we fetishized marriage to such a degree in our society?
I couple of great quotes from the interview (loosely paraphrased):
“People used to make decisions of marriage based on very practical reasons on what would benefit their families and community, no one would ever think to hang their future prospects, prosperity, and happiness on something as fickle as romantic affection.”
“That is one of the greatest delusions we live under—balance. That we can have it all, that we can be both autonomous AND connected equally, simultaneously. That somehow we can achieve this if we can only figure out this magic equation of balance.”
These and other ideas in the interview really got my attention, as someone who is sublimely happy, but also sublimely challenged, in my own domestic partnership with the love of my life, Shane.
Growing up, I had such foolish notions about love and marriage. I imagined that my partner would help me become a better person by virtue of a relationship of such overwhelming mutual admiration (idealization), that we would both be perpetually-inspired to try to live up to the other. I imagined myself in a hetero-normative dynamic in which I would probably be the one bringing home the bacon. Most of all, though, I foolishly thought that I had such a willing domestic nature and such insight into human relationships that it would be easy for me to open up my heart and share my life with another person.
Reality has been oh so different. Shane and I do push each other to be better people, because we demand it of each other, because being in a relationship of two strong-willed people demands greater patience, forgiveness, and love. No one knows our personal faults quite as keenly as we know each others. As it turns out, I am actually VERY autonomous and like a lot of personal space and freedom. Domesticity and sharing a life does not come easily to me. Also, while Shane and I are both very committed to the idea of building a family together, including adopting a child at some point, we both love to work and love the nature of our work. We will have to navigate a new path that would allow us to work and raise a child.
So far, Commited has been a great read. Comfortable, easy prose and very stark, unsentimental perspective of the ever-evolving institution of marriage in the Western world. I am certainly learning a lot about the cultural underpinnings of this institution and can’t wait to finish it (which I suspect will be in another day or two).
Thanks, Nomes, for sharing this with me. I think had heard something about it, but now this trailer makes me want to see it.
When Shane lost his job, my friend, Mark (who is a veteran copywriter), told me that we should both get used to times of unemployment, that especially in the ad world, it is fairly common, not a big deal, not a reflection of a person's work, and that you eventually learn to enjoy those lulls as pseudo-vacations while you find the next job.
The very prospect terrifies me. I can't imagine being let go/fired/downsized.
I have been fired exactly once, from a job that I hated, resented, had no passion for, and dragged myself to everyday. I would put on a plastic smile, robotically do my work, and think about how I could be doing something that was really challenging. I was a waiter in a caviar restaurant. I generally had two tables a night of the most annoying patrons in Beverly Hills. Even so, being fired from that job was incredibly humiliating and shocking. It was difficult not to see it as a reflection of my personal worth and work. Ironically, it happened on the exact night I was planning on quitting anyway.
I am so glad I have found planning, and I am knocking wood that anytime I have to leave an agency, it is to find a more amazing opportunity somewhere else.
I just had an incredible international adventure with my partner-in-crime, Shane.
For those of you who don’t know, last July, to celebrate my birthday, my wonderful boyfriend booked us a flight to Peru for the holidays. Little did we know then that in December we would have to prepare to move back to San Francisco. So we packed up all of our stuff, I said a tough “adios” to 180, and we boarded a late night plane to Lima, Peru.
I am just going to give you a brief run-down of the trip. I will upload all of the pics to Flickr soon with a full color commentary on all of the interesting sights and experiences.
2) Lake Titicaca—Puno (the starting point) is not great, but the lake itself is beautiful and immense. The artificial Floating Islands were a trip, as were the unique locals that have solar-powered electricity, but still get by fishing and making reed handicrafts. Our favorite was Taquile Island, whose views never disappointed.
3) El Parque de Amor—On the cliffs of Miraflores overlooking the Pacific, two blocks from our Lima hostel, this park is dedicated to meandering trails, poetry, sculpture, and most of all love. To that point, the park was rife with strolling and embracing lovers. It was beautiful and great to see a civic project dedicated to a specific idea/theme.
Worst of Peru: 1) Constant haggling—at some point getting snowed for being a tourist gets old and you just want a straight-up, no hassle price. 2) Not being able to drink the water—all of those fresh-made fruit juices kept calling to us, but we didn’t dare derail our trip for a day of diarrhea. 3) Pretending we were straight—sometime the jig was up and some people figured it out, but I still didn’t like being in a place where I couldn’t hold my partner’s hand or give him a kiss on the cheek because WE were having a special moment in Love Park. The hilarious thing is, Peruvians aren’t even that Catholic.
I knew it would happen once I moved to L.A., but I still don't know how to make sure everyone gets the attention they deserve. So when Gavin invited me to lunch, I had to figure out how to bow out gracefully.
I have been looking forward to it for weeks. Months, perhaps. The premiere of Art & Copy, a little indie documentary commissioned by The One Club about the creative field of advertising.
Truth be told, out here in L.A., I have found myself chomping at the bit to be reconnected in any way with the world of creatives I found in San Francisco. Ah, that little conclave of bombastic creative opinions and cursing.
So I followed Art & Copy on Twitter, and put the premiere date in my I-Cal, with a two-week advance reminder to get tickets. I imagined that every ad person in Southern California would be flocking to the West Hollywood premiere and I wanted to make sure I would not be left without a ticket. After all, at best, this film promised access to the thoughts and stories of some of the greatest minds in advertising, and at the very least, we advertising folk thoroughly enjoy being reminded of the cultural significance and visionary genius of our industry.
I dragged along my boyfriend, who works in political digital campaigns, and my friend, Jay, who used to be a planner and now works as a qualitative research.
The courtyard outside the Laemmle 5 Theater was swarming with eager attendees...for another film. Our own little screening room was graced by the producers of the film and an almost half-full theater. My hopes to surrounded by anticipatory, creative electricity were immediately dashed.
Still, the opening scene seemed promising. Cave drawings and layered ad jingles started to draw a correlation between prehistoric cave drawings and the creative expressions of advertisers...but the full metaphor was never drawn. And, in fact, that is my major criticism of the film. Potential ideas were intimated, but never fully explored, leaving me to question the actual thesis of the film. Ironically, the film spent considerable time describing how advertising brought humanity and story elements to business sales, and yet the film itself lacked any sort of narrative arch. Instead, it seemed to relay a series of anecdotes and Power-Point-worthy factoids in a loosely chronological order.
It seems to me a film suitable for first semester advertising students, to indoctrinate them into the religion and lore of advertising, but as someone pretty familiar with both, I found myself growing a little bored with the film. As an insider, it seemed to me that likely only someone in the industry would actually be interested in the film, but my boyfriend, Shane, thinks anyone in a creative field or marketing would find the movie interesting, and his own mind was buzzing with how to bring greater creativity and relevancy to his client work (mind you, Shane already does a pretty good job of this).
True to industry form, the movie was peppered with profanity and hubris, most notably from famed art director, George Lois. His presence in the film actually made me squirm a bit, in part because some of his claims seemed so hubristic as to make all us advertisers seem kind of like asses, but also because I had just heard a podcast of This American Life, in which his former ad partner, Julian Koenig, and some of his other colleagues openly accuse George of frequently taking credit for the work and ideas of others. It made me want to question the credibility of the film.
Perhaps the most haunting line of the film was when Mary Well boldly claimed,"You can manufacture any feeling you want to manufacture." That definitely made me sit up in my seat (and perhaps cringe a little). But while Art & Copy had the potential to make this an indictment of the industry, it never carried through. Likely because of The One Club. As I remember one Rotten Tomatoes critic saying--it's an ad for advertising.
The greatest treat for me was seeing some of the great minds of advertising that shaped the industry in the 20th century, speaking, revealing their personality quirks, and sharing their values. In particular, I found myself inspired by Lee Clow (TBWA Chiat Day) who reminded me of a sage surfer uncle. I was wowed by the drive and energy of Mary Wells (Wells Rich Greene. I was charmed by the evocative campaigns of Hal Riney (Publicis Hal Riney). I was amused by the working relationship of Dan Wieden and David Kennedy (W+K) (and enamored with their Northwest offices). I was a little miffed Goodby & Silverstein didn't talk at least a little bit about the account planning that went into Got Milk? (of course). And I was surprised and disappointed not to see anything from advertising celebrity du jour, Alex Bogusky.
I might choose to buy a film like this, if I intended to teach. Otherwise, for inspiration and enrichment, I would be more likely to thumb through an issue of Ad Age or CMYK. Or re-watch Frida.
My next cinematic craving, which may also leave me a bit disappointed, but still happy:
After a wonderfully restful Labor Day weekend in San Francisco (pics on Flickr to come), Shane and I stopped to visit my sister, Lindsey and her family. The kids were super excited to drag us to check out their new favorite local hangout: Big Bubba's BBQ!
The ribs were meaty and good, the staff was super entertaining (crew line dancing and jaw-dropping balloon artist), but the memory that is staying with me to this day is the mechanical bull. Apparently my niece and nephews have become quite adept at riding this sucker to the blaring beats of Black Eyed Peas and T.I. Of course, they talked their uncle into giving it a go.
I now understand why cowboys walk so bow-legged. My thighs are still sore.
Behold, my jerky,awkward shame:
(thank you Shane and Apple's I Phone for documenting this. I is ignominy?)
Once again too long since blogging. I have had lots of thoughts to share on branding, which I will hopefully get to this weekend, but sometimes, you just have to get away from the noise of Twitter and blogs and recycled news chatter. I am SO sick of reading things from a screen. For awhile now I have been yearning to return to my favorite activity as a child--curling up with a good book. Which is why, after meeting up with some local creative/marketing peeps at Likeminds, I headed over to the the public library on Venice Blvd. to get a library card, once the ultimate symbol of power and knowledge.
I was actually pretty disappointed by this branch. It has only three bookcases of fiction! With one shelf dedicated completely to Michael Crichton. It made me miss the vast and glorious library of downtown SLC.
Nonetheless I made off with some wonderful, purely indulgent selections:
Eat, Pray, Love I have been meaning to read for a while now, I bought my mother the Spanish translation so we could read it together. I hope she is still game.
The Little Prince is another book I have been meaning to read for a while. They didn't have a copy of it in French, so I will just breeze through it in English. I am expecting to be delighted.
Flesh and Blood is a novel by Michael Cunningham. I really enjoy his quiet, introspective prose. It's about this family of characters that seem to touch on all aspects of Michael Cunningham's personality, so, like much of Michael's stuff, it seems to be a work of literary/intellectual masturbation.
My final book choice is Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. This is perhaps my favorite book from childhood. It still makes me laugh out loud, and even as a grown-up, I relate to the characters. I just wish they had better cover art.
Notice none of these books are nonfiction books designed to educate on a topic, in particular marketing, culture, symbology, religion, or art (the only books I have read for the past five years). The choices were pure, unadulterated literary indulgence. I wasn't even going to reach for books I "should" read, like a Tolstoy tome. Just escapist fun. And no screens!
After reading just a few pages of Beezus and Ramona in the check-out line, I knew I had to sit and enjoy a chapter or two of this delightful book. But the uncomfortably tiny, non-cushy chair zone that is the Venice library would not do, so I headed over to Lemonade--the trendy new eatery on Venice's Abbot Kinney. At Lemonade I settled in to enjoy Ramona's antics and some cucumber & mint lemonade. Very yummy. The cookie was rather "meh."
It was the perfect afternoon. I walked to my car with an extra skip in my step, eager to get home and curl up for an hour or two with a book, blithely trying to ignore the very grown-up buzz-kill that is Los Angeles traffic.
What would the perfect day look like for John Quintana? If this anal-retentive, uber-picky guy had everything go his way, what woudl the world look like? Well, it would look something like the Saturday after my birthday, which I decided to take for self-indulgence. (for those of you who are patient enough to sit through all of this, there is a surprise at the end)
The night before I was able to go to bed at a reasonable hour and I woke up without the aid of an alarm and with no rush for a particular destination, which meant I could just roll over and cuddle indulgently with my favorite person in the whole world. We defied the conventions of L.A. and headed out with pillow wrinkles still fresh on our faces to get my new favorite breakfast: bagels with cream cheese and lox! (When first I saw the ambulance I was mortified someone had died or something at the bagel shop . . . and I would not be able to get my bagels and lox. I am that awful of a person.)
We enjoyed breakfast at my new favorite place in all of Los Angeles: our terrace. The morning light just made Shane look even more amazing.
We then got our asses kicked by a lithe Japanese yoga instructor at the gym. It was awesome, purifying, re-aligning, and transcendent!
I decided to treat my boyfriend to lunch at the restaurant where I am serving penance. I got to show him off to all of my co-workers, and I chose to sustain myself on yet another form of smoked salmon (FYI for my Gentile friends--lox is a form of smoked salmon).
On the way home, we were once again intrigued by the assembled young people waiting in line for days now in front of the Johnny Cupcakes. I decided to exercise my planner chops and went out an interviewed the people on the street. It was so much fun! And I learned a lot about this wholly different clothing brand. I will post a full report on my little gum shoe work later next week.
Once I put away my little tape recorder, it was time to bust out the Gregorian chants and do some baking! (thankfully I had a nice iced coffee to keep me cool, thanks to Shane's wonderful parents who got us a coffee maker while they were here)
Our good friends here in L.A. came over, we packed up some sandwiches, the banana bread I just made, and various other goodies and headed to Venice Beach (my new favorite beach) for a sunset picnic on the beach.
Everyone brought the perfect things for a picnic on the beach. Kevin brought a bottle of champagne and my favorite chocolate, Naomi brought yummy berries (which went great with the bubbly) and cookies, and Phil (bless his heart!) brought SMOKED SALMON SANDWICHES! I was in heaven. My third meal of delectable, savory smoked salmon. This time perfectly off set with dill and lemon.
We spent the rest of the evening wandering around Abbot Kinney, giggling like crazy and soaking up the local scene. We ended the night eating the amazing Korean-Mexican fusion taco truck that is Kogi.
Ah, it was a perfect day! I wish everyday could be like that. There were only two things that I didnt get to do that day, that I wanted to: 1) do a little clothes shopping and 2) go to the public library and piece of real, indulgent FICTION! Sigh. Maybe this weekend. Still, a perfect day, and I think Shane for being so wonderful in going along with all of it.
Still, there is the surprise I was talking about before. You see, on my actual birthday, Shane took me out to this marvelous Latin-fusion restaurant to give a birthday present unlike any other I have received: a trip to Machu Picchu!!! Aaaaaaaaaahh!!! Where is an Oprah studio audience when you need one? Anyway, we are going in December and we are both super excited to plan the trip together, so I guess the most perfect part of the day was the reminder that I have a wonderful partner with whom to have wonderful indulgent days and exciting adventures, and for that, I have every reason to be grateful.
It's the morning after my 27th birthday. My day has begun as I often like to begin the day of my birthday--I woke up before dawn and am taking my time to think about the trajectory of my life.
It is a little crazy that I have now had enough birthdays that I have developed my own personal preference for birthday ritual. I generally have an intimate dinner with friends, I afford myself a bit of personal indulgence (take a "me" day. This year it will be on Saturday. I have already planned a yoga class, some art time, and maybe a little hike.), and call my parents.
I am now 27. It doesn't really feel any different. In fact, I often barely feel much older than 18 (and yet am perpetually 40). Now I have the benefit of hindsight. 10 years ago today, I had just graduated from high school and was on BYU campus starting as a freshman summer term. I was eager to get on with life and didn't want to spend an entire summer at home. I couldn't wait to get college over with and really "start" my life.
In the eyes of 17 year old John, this would be the year I hopefully finished my Ph.D. in Clinical Child Psychology. I was nervous about being able to provide for a family while in grad school. Like any good Mormon, I expected to be married by now, with perhaps one or two children. I was nervous and excited about serving a mission. I thought of myself as a great counselor to those around me. I was thrilled by my new-found freedom of being away from home. That summer was actually probably the most fun summer I have ever had. My friends and I stayed out until all hours--having impromptu concerts in front of the dorms, driving out to Bridal Veil Falls in the middle of the night, going to the 24-hour grocery store for early-morning ice cream runs.
In some ways I wonder how much I have really changed. I feel like much the same person.
My life, however, is definitely nothing like what I imagined. The only thing that has turned out as I expected, was that I hoped at this point I would have made it back to southern California. Here I am. Living with my boyfriend and about to finish my third (fourth?) year of my master's degree . . . in advertising (?!). The ways that I choose to define myself are less concrete than at 17. I understand things about myself that I never could have anticipated. Nonetheless, in this relationship with Shane, I am pushing myself even more, confronting even more about myself and being forced to grow. Like anyone else who gets older, I can look back and say I thought I knew so much back then and realize now how little I took the time to really listen and try to understand.
Perhaps the greatest achievement I can lay claim to right now is that I am happy. I was taught as a child that true, life-giving, love-filled happiness is sign of a life lived rightly and goodly (proper use of adverbs, I swear). I hope and believe that is true. I know that I need to challenge myself more, to be more spiritually aware and live more mindfully, but I also have faith God will be patient with me and help me as I try to figure out the next steps of my life.
I am grateful for the friends I have made on this path of my life who have helped me become the person I am today and who have sustained me in difficult times. I wish they were all a constant part of my life, but life keeps us marching forward. I think we will be reunited.
When I woke up yesterday with an ache in my heart for my parents. Mom, if you read this, I love you and Dad both so much. I am the person I am today because of your influence and love. My birthday wish would have been to see you both and hug you. I hope I can do so soon.
. . . and now, it's time to get my butt in gear. I have been having the most amazing time writing this on the terrace with our flowers and the morning getting brighter (another grey day! My favorite! (I am serious)), but I have to commute to Venice.
It's true. I am back. I have left the fog-shrouded hills of San Francisco for the smog-shrouded hills of Hollywood.
Why?
Well, part of it is because I have inexplicably fallen in love with this adorable dork: . . . and in spite of our gloomy recession was able to find an amazing job here three weeks after losing his old one.
We discussed it and agreed L.A. was a good option for both of us. For those of you who don't know, I was born here . . . (B-Day No. 2, I think in like West Covina)
. . . and have wanted to come back ever since the parents cruelly forced the family into Utah exile. I tried coming back for undergrad and ended up at BYU. I kind of came back for a short while when I was a missionary in East LA for the LDS Church, but, of course, I then had to go back to Utah. I tried coming back for grad school, and ended up in San Francisco at the Academy of Art University. So the plan was to head down after the MFA to find a kick ass position in account planning.
Well, the plan has been sped up slightly. I am done with the studio core of my program and the bulk of it now is finding (a) great internship(s) at an advertising agency (in Los Angeles, now, instead of San Francisco).
In the mean time, I am enjoying the beautiful weather in Southern California and am preparing to present for Mid-Point Review.
I am sorry for being M.I.A. on the blogging front for the past couple of weeks. Finals AND packing AND apartment hunting in a different part of the state have been a lot to juggle. Last week was spent just decompressing and unpacking the surprising amount of stuff Shane and I have both amassed (anyone need a lava lamp?).
Thanks to everyone who showed up to help us pack and send us off. Full set of Good-Bye pics here.
If you want to check out some pics of our new apt (sans furniture) click here.
We both love our new place. We are excited for all of the opportunities in L.A., to build a home together, and to defy the preconceptions of all of our SF friends and prove how wonderful and multifaceted L.A. really is.
Here I am. One traveler trying to figure things out in San Francisco.
Against all reason, I have managed to find a great deal of fun and happiness studying advertising at the Academy of Art, preparing for the day I get to bite my teeth into the "real world."
I don't believe we are defined by our 9-5, and so, ultimately, I define myself by the choices I make and the way I interact with the world.
I like getting to know new people and seeing things from others' perspectives. I am always open to new experiences. I like having deep conversations sure, but I find the best connections and real joys in life are found in the everyday and the trivial. So I am all about hanging out, watching some mindless television, pizza and beer, and fun music.
Going to the latest gallery opening is great, but so is a really awesome club (dancing is one of the best cathartic experiences ever!).
Spirituality is important to me. I wouldn't want to imagine life without a connection to the divine.
