Will Not Disappoint

I stumbled upon it a couple of weeks ago and have since fallen in love this this new style and Kishi Bashi's undeniable artistry. I am so excited that just days after discovering and dowloading his album in early September, that I found out he will be in Baltimore, playing a free show outside! in beautiful 75 degree weather for FREE! in four days. This was my Monday. Tonight I'm so excited to get to see him live. Did I mention it was free?  If this guy doesn't make it big, I have lost faith in the musical tastes of our generation.

If you only have a moment, start this video at 6:15. You should be entranced by the end. I promise, you will not have wasted those 12 minutes.



If you have some more time, the concert below is fucking great. He's one of those musicians where you listen and at first think "eh" and the more you listen, the more brilliant it gets. Undoubtedly, my favorite kind of music.





If he's not brilliant to your ears, then there's something wrong with your heart. I am so looking forward to tonight. It feels like a karmic reward; nice when things just fall together at just the right time.

The One Where Someone Threw a Rock

The past few weeks have been an enormous flurry of travel. Remember the time I said I was going to write and post photos all about New Zealand and then didn't have yet to? It's something like that.

After Mexico, I was all over the place: Twice to PA for family birthdays (gram turned 80 and the twins are 1! -- and adorable.), north for a friend's wedding, Dewey Beach for a single people's fun weekend - undoubtedly a good time, and then VA Beach for a 4 day weekend and a half-marathon, and after four days back, a week in Savannah, then leaving a day early to fly back to DC to road trip up to Pittsburgh for a football game and tailgate. (And we won!) This weekend will be the first I've been home since August 11th, although last weekend was almost derailed and I almost had to stay home and miss the game. Why, you ask: Because while in Savannah, on a nice family vacation, some jackass threw a rock through my window.

Yes, this SAME EXACT window: One year and 17 days later, looked like this:

Last year, this happened and the first person I called was my mom...sobbing. I then called the insurance companies and eventually the glass company. Last week I thought quickly on my feet - I had exactly 3 hours to drive home, unpack from the week and repack for the weekend and meet my friends for our four hour road trip: I called the glass company (then insurance companies and quickly my mum, not sobbing), made arrangements to drop off my car for the weekend - grabbing my 2nd pair of keys when I repacked, so I could pick it up while they were closed Sunday, when we got back - I put my rear foot mat on my drivers seat to avoid a glassy bum, called my friend who was driving and asked if he could pick me up in a different place (still on they way), drove home, unpacked/repacked and headed into traffic; dropping off my car five minutes before close. I then walked up to road (with armfuls of stuff) towards my office so I was easier to be picked up and we could get on our way north - for a fun weekend, despite a crappy homecoming - and it was something like this: 

The weekend was great. The crisis was averted. I didn't let this spoil it; in fact, at times I totally forgot (and that my dresser, while repacking, broke into 3 5 pieces.) Sure, I was pissed at first that someone had thrown a rock through my window for no reason - nothing was taken. (In the photo above, you can see the rock, which still resides in my car - even after the auto glass guys vacuumed everything out, they left the rock. What a sweet memento!) Losing the money sucks, especially after having just replaced it, but this morning I wondered: What are the chances of that same window breaking twice? What's the point, Universe?

And then I realized, a year ago the same thing broke me down: A broken window broke me into pieces. And this year, just 382 days later, it was just a window; just a problem to be solved. Just last year I was weak, withered and broken and, perhaps, this broken window shattered again to remind me that things get put back together and the repairs from what once was shattered stops the rain from coming in again. 

I am in a good place now; nearly such a wonderful place. It took an asshole with a rock and a broken window to prove that to me. Life is so sublimely strange sometimes.

Living Art

I work with this one guy: When he asks me to create a graphic piece – no matter how simple – he always seems afraid to tell me what he dislikes. “That will work” followed by a “but” usually happens. Actually, I work with all men (and one other female) and they all started out this way. I've had to encourage them to disapprove. They are engineers, so to them, I’m the artist; the creative mind – too fragile to insult the work - but I don’t see myself that way and welcome anything that leads to brainstorming. Sure, when they need artwork, I get into my CreativeSuite and create, but I don’t consider myself an “artist” - there are others in the world far more artistic than I am - and my first draft is rarely ever as good as what I come up with after someone hates my work with specific detail – or just general disdain.

***

Once in college I had this painting class. The professor was a hard ass. He never liked my work. For my final, I ignored his advice and did what I wanted. I was happy with the outcome; he hated it. I was proud of it. I gave it to my mother for Christmas that year. She hung it in the basement. I hate that piece now. I wonder whose eyes I was looking through as I created it sometimes.

***

I went on a date last night. He asked me the last time I was in love. I thought back and answered: “2008”.

“Me too,” he replied. “That’s a long time. Do you think we’re broken?”

Without hesitation I responded, "No. Was I broken after it? Yes. Have I been broken before? Yes. I don’t think that it was love if it didn’t break you”. I continued, “But I’m a better now because I have been broken in the past”.

He paused for a moment and said, “I agree. I’m just picky, I think.”

"Me too."

***

This morning after I received the that will work, but email, I opened InDesign and reworked the piece with the little bit of negative feedback I was given. I sent it back to him. “Perfect!” he replied.

Even if truths hurt; even if you really love something in the moment, it might not be best – and just end up in your mom’s basement. Criticism might sting, but opens our eyes to see what we didn’t before and our minds to better resolves. And then, it gets better.