Life Without The Safety Net

Can you believe it’s already been one year since I left the comforting regularity of a bi-weekly paycheque in favour of la vie boheme? Me neither! Today– June 4th– marks the one year anniversary of my transition from regular and boring Office Job girl to Much More Interesting and Exciting Harbour Sidekick!

Every artist should have a sidekick like me. Just saying.

This calls for a celebration, ladies and gentlemen: Let us toast to the fact that I took a major (terrifying!) leap of faith last year AND I SURVIVED!! (Some might even argue that I have thrived!) Even though I didn’t want to say goodbye to my extensive alternative health care coverage and my regular acupuncture appointments, and even though it was painful to bid farewell to comprehensive dental benefits, and even though there were many nights spent fretting about income streams and cash flow, I wouldn’t hesitate to say now that I made the right choice. Hands down. I win!! This free-spirited, wonderfully unpredictable but extremely rewarding career path is most certainly the one that I am meant to be on right now.

Working the crowds at yet another art event in town

PS: This is actually one of my favourite thrift score shirts EVER. Another woman at the Value Village tried it on but discarded it, leaving it for me to snatch up. It's PERFECT!

As young and lovestruck couples often do, Marty and I dreamed about working together since we first met each other. We had no idea at the time how it would be humanly possible to do this, and we definitely didn’t imagine that he would be my “boss”. (At least I didn’t!) However– as is usually the case– the universe unfolded perfectly in its own time and even secretly stretched out an invisible safety net beneath the one I thought I was removing when I put my notice in at the Old Office Job. Everything worked out splendidly. We were safe. We managed to put dinner on the table every night, and most importantly: we didn’t tire of each other’s company, even on the days when we spent 14+ hours working together!

We see the most beautiful skies at work every day

It might not be obvious to people who don’t know us well in real life, but Marty and I are like a perfect yin and yang when it comes to our skills and talents. He’s the creative one (obviously) and the one with grand, visionary ideas. And even though I have a tendency to daydream (a lot) myself, I’m actually the nuts and bolts person in our relationship– the one who makes and updates our spreadsheets, cooks our meals, and manually calls in our credit card transactions every night. I help to bring his big plans into existence, one practical step at a time. Together, we are building Marty’s art business into a thriving creative enterprise!

Marty makes a painting. (I help with the custom framing.)

Image copyright Martin Machacek 2010

I make sure we have a decent website, blog, and social media presence. (Hello, Facebook and Twitter!)

This is the actual book I read down at the Harbour while setting up Marty's Twitter account last month (@martycultural, in case any of you are interested). Marty's quote: "She's the twit, I'm the dummy" It's funny because it's true!

Marty makes more paintings and designs classy-looking reproduction formats.

The poster version of the painting shown above. Copyright Martin Machacek

I knit his socks and whip up our soups.

He comes up with the most innovative and inventive marketing ideas ever.

I make sure we communicate these plans via our brand new e-newsletter!

This shot was either taken early in the morning or early into the Harbour season-- like in March. Normally there are people everywhere down on the causeway.

I think what I miss the most about the old Office Job is a clear beginning and end to every work day. Working in such a seasonal and weather-dependent occupation makes for very long summer hours, and it is too easy to get swept up in work-related tasks 24/7. That said, do I miss the paltry 30 minute lunch breaks at my old job? The never ending data entry? The inability to work out when my body most feels like it (i.e. at noon instead of at 5:30pm when the gym is PACKED)? Not at all. I miss my lady coworkers, but I still see them outside of the office context, so leaving my job last year was the greatest thing I’ve ever done for myself. Pats on the back all around!

The bouquet of flowers Marty bought to celebrate my last day of Office Work last year

The bouquet from my former colleagues

When’s the last time you took a gigantic leap of faith and ended up starring in the Thrilling Trapeze Show of SUCCESS (no safety net even needed)?

What’s the greatest thing you’ve done for yourself lately?   

“It’s 3 a.m., I Must Be CRAZY”

Don’t get your hopes up. Unfortunately for everybody involved, this will not be a full-fledged, honest-to-god blog post to satisfy all of your hankerings for some random Dana L. blog love. (Though believe me– I would love love love to dive right into the awesome material that my life has been giving me lately– I couldn’t make some of that stuff up!)

Alas.

I am still flooded with work-related tasks (payroll! taxes! TWITTER!!), and my poor inbox is heavy with unread posts and other boring bits of correspondence related to the ordering of thousands of envelopes and plastic sleeves. How exciting!

So it’s nearly 2 am on a Friday morning and I decided I would just stop by this old blog to reassure all of my remaining three, or two?, oh, hi mom! readers that I’m still alive and (mostly) functioning. After all, who needs sleep? Dear World: Contrary to what you have heard or feared, I am not dead– I’m just busy!

I’m looking so forward to my triumphant return to the blogosphere, when I will tell you all about my adventures with The Occult and also Countertop Sauerkraut. (For the record: they– meaning The Occult and Sauerkraut– might as well be one in the same.) Because I’m also an eternal optimist (also known as hopelessly naive), I’m hoping to at least read all the posts that I’ve missed from you. I might not be able to comment on every single post, but I miss my virtual friends (a lot!) (more than I can say!) (call me!) and I hope we can hang out as a friendly community again soon!

xoxo, Dana L., until we meet again

A Love Song

I have been extremely low energy this past weekend– tired, overly emotional, and making a dash (albeit slowly and lazily) to the safety of my hermit shell. (Just in time for the Always Have To Be ‘On’ Harbour season– heh.) There’s just something about standing outside in the wind and the coldish weather for a few hours each day, plastering a smile on my face and answering the same sorts of questions over and over again about Marty’s artwork that takes a lot out of me, especially at the start of the season.

I know. Woe is me, hey?

America's Next Top Model? Nope. Just me being serene like a gazelle, captured with Marty's skillful pencils in 2006.

Anyway. I am a little late catching on as usual, but apparently April is National Poetry Month. Who knew? That explains all of the sappy sonnets and cliched haikus I’ve seen painted onto every hip store window and random lamppost lately…

Spend lots of money

Our store is “with it” and chic

Poetic sales ploys

God knows I’m no Shakespeare when it comes to writing poetry. Most of my own poems sound tired, forced, and teenage angsty– like I’m trying too hard to be symbolic and to bury “deep” or “profound” “meanings” into every single word and unexpected usage of the tab key/space bar. Yeah. That said, I still appreciate a good poem, and I’m also a big believer in the poetic power of creativity in general. Can you write? Sing? Dance? Draw? Paint? Excellent! Seeing people following their passions in life– especially somewhat artistic and/or crafty passions– really moves me. I don’t even have to be the creative one. I can live vicariously through the talents of other people, no problem.

Speaking of other people’s talents… This past weekend was spent, in part, archiving some of Marty’s old sketches electronically. (The rest of our waking hours were devoted to setting up at the Harbour and downing a few dozen homemade chocolate truffles. See: tired and overly emotional above. Ahem.) Anyway, leafing through Marty’s rougher drawings and thumbnail sketches really touched me. We spend so much time now selling his more polished, “finished” pieces of artwork that it’s a real treat to see the earlier stages in his creative process once more. It makes me fall in love with him and admire his artistic gifts all over again!

Fisgard Lighthouse rough sketch. (All images in this post are copyright Martin Machacek. Have some respect and don't steal, please and thanks.)

Every pencil mark, every eraser smudge, every highlight, every shadow, every fluid line– all of them speak to a man who is following his heart and paving his life’s path doing what he truly loves. And I get to be along for that sacred journey! How inspiring! How fortunate! How utterly romantic and poetic, no?

Kincora Tower sketch in progress, copyright Martin Machacek

Whenever we travel together (or even explore our own city), we usually end up sitting somewhere scenic– Marty with his sketchbook in hand, and me with either a sock on the knitting needles or a good book to dive into with enthusiasm. We spend hours reading, drawing, sitting, breathing, being. Indeed, some of my favourite “poems” don’t have any words at all– they are simply the delicious memories of being close to the person I love, losing ourselves in contemplation and in the creative process…

Homer Spit Boardwalk, Alaska. Image copyright Martin Machacek

What moves you?

Freshly Pressed Changed My Life

You know the people who say, “Oh, winning the lottery wouldn’t change me at all– I would just keep working at my regular job until retirement anyway”? Or, “I would never let fame get to my head. I’ll always be a simple person living a simple life”?

Yeah. I am totally not one of those people.

Seriously. If I ever won the lottery, I would be traveling around the world before you could even say “letter of resignation”, and I’d probably deal with overnight success much like J. Lo did when she released her classic song and video, Jenny From the Block:

"I used to have a little, now I have a lot/ No matter where I go, I know where I came from..."

Me: [decked out in my purple, faux-snake skin boots] Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got/ I’m still, I’m still, Dana from the block…. [cue the army of Vitamix blenders swirling around in the background and poor Marty being roped into the cheesy Ben Affleck role]

 

Ahem.

I went to bed on Wednesday night, a humble girl with a humble lifestyle. Then I woke up on Thursday and discovered (via my jam-packed inbox) that I had been Freshly Pressed. Excellent! Let’s review the hierarchy of writing awards and accolades quickly, shall we?

1. Nobel Prize for Literature

2. Pulitzer Prize

3. WordPress’ Freshly Pressed

4. Oprah’s Book Club

5. Best-written Bishop Essay in Your Grade 7 Religious Studies Class

My blog in lights!

Clearly, Freshly Pressed is a big deal. Bigger than Oprah, even! (Right?) So on that fateful Thursday morning, having been ushered into this prestigious literary community, I knew that things would never be the same for me again. It was time to let my almond-milky fame go straight to my head.

 

First things first: I needed a disguise.

I was pretty sure that the paps would find me rather quickly. It says right on my “About” page that I live in Victoria, British Columbia, and Victoria isn’t exactly the world’s biggest city. (Though finding me would require the paparazzi to come to Canada. This could be an effective deterrent, especially in March, and it could therefore buy me some extra time to get my disguise in order! Brilliant!)

I started out by washing my hair with actual shampoo and conditioner. Aha! That will fool them! Then I invested 10 solid minutes into blow-drying my hair and wearing it down all casual-like, instead of pulling it up into a greasy ponytail like I’m normally apt to do. I was going to go all out and apply some eyeliner and/or clear mascara (lipgloss, too?), but then I remembered that I was expected at my Turbo Kick class at the YMCA* within the hour. No makeup on. At least not yet.

*Speaking of which– Note to self: Hire personal trainer. No– New note to self: Hire personal assistant who can hire a personal trainer on my behalf. That’s better. Ah, fame!

At my Turbo Kick class, I made sure not to wow the fellow attendees with my killer ninja moves, lest anyone recognize the Freshly Pressed Writer by virtue of her outstanding athletic abilities. Alas. By the end of the hour-long class, I was dripping with sweat and had a beet-red complexion, which threatened to ruin my careful disguise. (I’m much more easily recognized with a sweaty face and frizzy hair, just so you know.)

With no place to hide between the Y and my ghetto apartment on the way home, I resigned myself to signing autographs for Freshly Pressed fans. I practiced my signature, just in case.

It sure is hard to master the art of loopy cursive when your hand is weighed down with semi-precious (or fake) jewels...

Luckily, I made it back home undetected (but just barely! I’m sure the woman who stopped to ask me for directions was secretly wanting an autograph.) By that point, it was time to get a nose job and some lip injections*– because all of Hollywood knows that those gossip magazine photos can be horribly unflattering… on purpose.

 

*I got a recommendation for a great plastic surgeon from Cher, who is most likely a Freshly Pressed alumna herself. See the networks that open up to you when you become Freshly Pressed? It’s incredible!

Post-surgery: Easy, breezy, beautiful Freshly Pressed Writer

Afterward, I wore an old relic from my days in frosty Alberta to hide the surgery scars in public. I’m pretty sure I still blended right in with the average, everyday, non-Freshly Pressed people at the park– what do you think? Marty thinks I look like Hannibal Lecter, but wait until he sees my gorgeous, Angelina Jolie lips!

Hair still frizzy... le sigh.

Anyway. Once my new face has healed and my new body has been whipped into shape by my new personal trainer, I’ll probably take my relationship with the paparazzi to the next level. I’ll start tipping them off myself, letting them know whenever I’ll be heading to the Farmers’ Market or working down at the Harbour. (Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll be jet-setting around the world! No need for any real job anymore. Goodbye, old life! Thank you, WordPress!)

 

On a slightly more serious note: I’d really like to thank WordPress for featuring my blog on their Freshly Pressed page, and I’d also like to welcome my new readers, even those of you who are more than perplexed by the notoriety I’ve gained from a random post about almond milk. (I feel your pain.) Finally, I’d like to give a heartfelt shout out to all the people who knew and supported me before I was famous. I really appreciate all of you reading and commenting on my blog, fame-by-proxy or not.

To conclude this post, I propose a toast: Here’s to dry sarcasm, witty retorts, animated discussions in the comments section, and many more awkward revelations to come! Thanks, everyone!