Floor Plan B

spacedani · Feb 4, 2004

:up:

[size=+2]Final Grades[/size]

DANIELLE T. Z.
WINTER 2004
Feb 04, 2004 10:25 am

CRN | Subject | Course | Section | Course Title | Campus | Attempted | Earned | GPA | Quality Points | Final Grade
2108 | HA | 112 | 35D | HIST WEST ART/CIV:RENAISS/MOD | LOWER DIVISION | 3.000 | 3.000 | 4.000 | 12.00 | A

Of course, that's not my total GPA--just my GPA for Winterim. The A was really necessary though, as it raised my fall GPA by a quarter point.

Second night of classes yesterday. I like my teachers. Frank a bit more than Jan (who teaches Studio II). I had Frank last night for Intermediate Drafting and Perspective Drawing. He emphasized once again that C work meets requirements. B work goes over and above, is high quality, and demonstrates creativity and embellishment, and A work must be really outstanding and exceptional, rising to the top like cream in 1% milk.

We have a project per week in his class. In Studio, we have three projects total.

Our first studio project is to design a foyer for a charitable organization of our choosing. I chose Goat Rescue. This is going to be fun.

Our first drafting project is a paraline drawing of a living room. Man, gotta clear off the clutter from the ol’ drafting table.

I’m looking forward to it. I have a feeling this is going to be a good semester.

Man-I-have-a-crush-on just bought me a cappuccino. He asks me all the time whether I want anything when he goes down to the café, and I always say “no thanks.” This time, I let him do something for me, because it feels good to do stuff for people, and I want him to feel good. And I like cappuccino. And I like him.

Gawd.

spacedani · Feb 5, 2004

waitress in a cocktail bar

from: me
subject: WHY?

WHY DOESN'T HE WANT ME???!?!?!?!?

:`(

---
from: Ray

[first name] [last name]?

---
from: me

Shhhhh...

---
from: Ray

OH, uh, I mean, that guy who doesn't work here and certainly isn't your direct boss?

---
from: me

Don't you want me baby?
Don't you want me oooooh?
Don't you want me baby?
Don't you want me ooooh?

I was working as a serf-girl in a corporate law firm;
that much is true.
But even then I knew I'd find a much better place;
I just wish you'd let me do you...

I. Am. Driving. Myself. Crazy.

Time for class.

spacedani · Feb 10, 2004

up all night, work all day

Ah...Slaughter, the band.

Here's another modified lyric that applies to right now:

(to the tune of Pulling Mussels from the Shell)

"Eating Breyer's from the box...
Eating Breyer's from the box..."

So it's not funny anymore. I could have done this drafting assignment over the weekend. Instead I'm up all night.

There goes my plan to be beautiful at work. This whole work crush thing has really gotten out of hand. My teeth hurt, because of ice cream and tooth bleach. Ah, tooth bleach.

"I can't live...
with or without you..."

I bought a cute little mod-like black and white striped tight sweater. I was going to wear it today at work, but I don't know anymore, now that I'm bloated from lactose and lack of sleep.

Tim says "New York is so over." He gets the inside scoop from Sex & the City.

Me right now, in emoticons:

a) :inlove:

b) :bleagh:

c) :loopy:

d) :flip:

e)

uke:

for various reasons.

Good Fucking Morning, New York.

I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

spacedani · Feb 12, 2004

warm pile of cow dung

To: Prof. Fong
cc: Takashi, dept. chair
time: Tuesday night
subject: Interior Design course 153

Hello Professor Fong,

My name is Danielle, and I would really, deeply, truly love to take part in your Wednesday night class. I had originally been signed up for the class since December, but the weekend prior to the first day of classes, FIT deregistered me because I had a small balance on my account. When I tried to sign up again, the system told me that the class was full!

I'm writing in the hopes that perhaps some people were missing during the first week, and that I can fill one of those empty seats. A couple students have told me that there were some empty seats in your class last week.

Before you say that the class is full, please consider the following proposition: How about I come to class tomorrow (Wednesday). If there is an empty seat, I will sit in and do the work. As long as there's an empty seat, I will continue to do the work, even without official FIT credit. If someone officially drops out or withdraws, I can then take their place and get credit for the course, and I won't be behind with the assignments.

Of course, all this is based on the assumption that no one has already dropped, although it's very likely that someone already has, and that there will be room for me tomorrow anyway.

Won't you let me contribute to your class?

Very truly yours,
Danielle
---
from: me
to: Takashi

Hi Takashi,

I just sent this to Prof. Fong, and I thought I should cc you on it as well. I really want to take his class, and was told by some students that there were empty computer terminals last week. I would take it in place of Studio II.

Can I come by your office sometime tomorrow (Wednesday) to pick up an overtally form?

Thanks a billion,
Danielle
---
from: Takashi
to: me
time: Wednesday morning

Too late for Wed. night, as far as I know.
---
from: me

Are you in your office tonight around 6pm?
---
from: Takashi

probably not.
---
from: me

Students in the Wed. night class told me that there were empty seats. I'd like to at least ask Mr. Fong tonight if I can participate, and want to go prepared with an overtally form in case he says okay. If you're not there tonight, where/when can I get an overtally form? Can I come on my lunch break sometime around 2:30?
---
from: Takashi

One student asked him that question for Wed. night class to Ernesto
last night, and he said NO.
---
from: me

Can't I just go there tonight and try? Maybe a few people won't show up. Lots can change in a day. For example, I just dropped Studio II five minutes ago.
---
from: Takashi

I would not waste time doing that.
---
from: me

It's not a waste; it's what I really want to do. In fact, there's a chance I could still be on his roster, since I was de-registered before the first day of class.

I've left a message with the department asking for his number, but she hasn't called me back yet.

If he doesn't let me in after I go there tonight, at least I will have tried. Otherwise, I'll never know.

Please can I pick up an overtally form? Please?

Danielle
---
from: Takashi

That's only possible after he said yes.
If you withdrew from studio, why are you taking this or any other
second semester courses anyway?
---
from: me

There are a few reasons, which I can go over if you want.

A) I want my portfolio to be great. I want to continue to improve my skills, and the only 1st semester class I'm lacking is 121 (took art history in winterim).

B) I was told that when applying to the day program in third semester, the portfolio is judged much more harshly. I'm not concerned about my skill level, but honestly, I don't know that Jan's class [studio] will induce my best work.

C) I wanted to get into full-time for THIS spring. As long as I'm taking night classes, I fall farther and farther behind. Instead of killing myself to keep up at night, I might as well go at a pace at which I'm comfortable with my day job, and take classes that would most improve my skills, rather than trying to keep up with some sort of "semester itinerary."

D) If I take night classes next semester, I will need to have 152 anyway, so why not take it now? Frank is teaching the class with the assumption that none of us are in Studio, so none of our assignments correspond.

That's why.

D
---
from: Takashi
time: Wednesday eve

It does not sound like a good move...
Hope it works for you.
---
from: me
time: late Wednesday night

Ernesto let me into the class. When can I come by and pick up a signed overtally form from you? You teach class tomorrow at 6:20, so I can pop by at 6 and pick it up.

Danielle
---
from: me
time: Thursday morning

When is a good time to pick up that overtally form from you? I can come by tonight before your class, for example.
---
from: Takashi

153 is not clear yet. I'm waiting for his explanation of his
conflicting answers.
In any case, I DO NOT sign the form until it is signed by the
instructor.
---
from: me

Takashi, this conversation is difficult and slow over email. I just left you a voicemail to call me, but briefly:

You would not give me the form so I couldn't get him to sign it, and now he's gone for the rest of the week. The add deadline is tomorrow.

I didn't have a form last night, but he wrote a note and signed it, stating that it's okay to add the class. I don't have an explanation as to his "conflicting answers," other than to say that I can be very convincing when I want to be. Plus, there are 20 computers in the class, yet the roster only had 19 people (18 + 1 overtally) on it. So he let me stay.

This is all so very difficult, when it could have been so simple, had I been able to get the form from you before going to class last night. I don't understand why this process has to be so difficult.

Please call me if you have more questions. If not, I guess I'll see you tonight at around 6, then?

Danielle
---
from: me
time: late Thursday morning

Takashi,

Here is the web page from the FIT information system for ID 153. You'll see that all the classes are in room C229. All the classes have a cap of 20, except for Ernesto's Wednesday class, which for some reason has a cap of 18. But there are 20 computers.

This is why he let me stay.

- Danielle
---
from: Takashi
time: an hour later

You will pick up the form tomorrow afternoon.
Ernesto will sign tomorrow morning, then I will.
If I'm not in my office, I will place an envelope on my door. You are wrong on your assumption. It is now on the record.
---
from: me

Thank you.

What the fuck? “It is now on the record.” What the hell is that supposed to mean?? This is the type of BULLSHIT that makes me really NOT want to go there, which is why I don’t CARE whether I get a year behind by not taking Studio II this semester. Because I don’t plan on BEING there long enough to have to WORRY about it.

Bureaucracy. Ah, New York.

spacedani · Feb 15, 2004

School: dropped off the overtally form for ID 153 (Computer Space Modeling and Visualization) and finalized my Spring schedule. No more goat project, no more studio class. This will be a much more sane semester, with class only on Tuesday (ID 152: Intermediate Drafting and Perspective Drawing) and the afformentioned ID 153 on Wednesday. Which means that I could potentially have a life. Potentially. I'll at least have enough time for one...

Other: ...if I don't get in my own way. Which is what I tend to do. As anyone who knows me will admit, I have some sort of confidence issue. Not like I'm divulging terribly private info here, as I think it's pretty obvious. Perhaps more obvious than I have heretofore believed. One of my favorite things to do in life is placing all of my sensory input into a metaphorical meat grinder. Over. And Over. And Over. Again. Which leads to sabotage of the nth degree.

...KEXP Seattle radio is playing Cockney rap. It's odd...

Sabotage. The meat grinder theory.

"...Oy'm stiw a secre' lemonayde drinkah..."

There's really no reason for it. The confidence issue. Described a [probably sabotaged] rendez-vous I had this week to a friend:

me: "I was nervous. In my head, I kept weighing myself against his ex-girlfriend, who is incredibly smart, funny, and cute."
friend: "Ohmygod Danielle, and what do you think you are?"
me: "Yeah but it's not the same. I mean, she's REALLY smart..."
friend: "Shut up before I slap you."

So whatevs. Live and learn. In the meantime, another one bites the dust. Dan Goldstein has the best advice: "Be yourself."

spacedani · Feb 18, 2004

devils and angels

I’m less than thrilled with one of the attorneys I work for today. Last night I dreamt that I was supposed to help him put on three jackets before he left town. Well, regardless of what I did, he couldn’t get the jackets to his satisfaction. During one of the attempts, while helping him with the first one, the second one got wrinkled on my arm. He got all bent out of shape, insinuating that the wrinkles were my fault, and that he can’t wear it now, and that he’s supposed to catch a flight, and [for all intents and purposes, yet without actually saying it] how could I be so stupid? But I could do nothing to rectify either the situation or his blame. I offered to iron it, but for some reason he sighed, rolled his eyes, and said no. I tried to explain that the jacket was only on my arm for a few seconds, and I had no control over its wrinkling, but he didn’t buy it. I was in a lose-lose scenario.

In the meantime, my other lawyer (the one I had a brief crush on, but not anymore) was poking around the cabinets in my area, looking for something he couldn’t find. But he wouldn’t tell me what or let me help him. I noticed that up close, he looked much more haggard and older than I had remembered him: with a receding hairline, acne scars, and sunken cheeks. How had I not noticed this before?

I woke up feeling somewhat resentful and taken advantage of, but soon realized it was fiction. Then I got to work, and my same boss who only found fault in my jacket-helping had sent me an email:

jacket lawyer said:

Well I’m 99.9% certain that he never put that brief in his outbox. In any case, it never crossed my desk. I get requests like this from him fairly often, where he asks me a question and I start to feel pangs of anxiety, because I have no recollection of what he’s talking about and fear that I neglected to do something. In almost every case, however, he finds the document on the pig sty that is his desk, or he realizes he never gave it to me, or that he gave it to a substitute on a day I was out, or that a paralegal took care of it. In the meantime, I’m left to feel terribly guilty and anxious that I fucked up. He insinuates that I’m inadequate, yet when he discovers I did nothing wrong, he (of course) does not apologize.

I didn’t realize how damaging this was until that dream, where the jacket getting wrinkled was something totally out of my control. I used to think that being a secretary is terribly condescending, but now I think it’s mainly just him.

In other news, I think I’m in love with my drafting teacher, Frank. In that fatherly sort of way. I got an A on our first assignment, and his comments were along the lines of “Very very good work... Thank you for putting in the effort.” THANK YOU??? What teacher says “thank you” for doing the work? Wow, a COMPLETE 180 from Takashi’s sadistic teaching. Dear God, thank YOU for sending me such an angel. This semester may just be my karma for getting through the last one.

spacedani · Feb 25, 2004

quote of the day

In other news, school is great. I'm SO much less stressed this semester. Ready for a job change though. Waiting to find out about Oregon...:nervous:

Word of the Day for Wednesday February 25, 2004

flibbertigibbet \FLIB-ur-tee-jib-it\, noun:
A silly, flighty, or scatterbrained person, especially a pert
young woman with such qualities.

Flibbertigibbet is from Middle English flipergebet, which is
probably an imitation of the sound of meaningless chatter.

Trivia: Flibbertigibbet originally meant a gossip or
chatterbox, but it soon took on the idea of a light-minded or
frivolous person. Flibbertigibbet was also the name of a
demon; it appears in a list of 40 fiends in a book by Samuel
Harsnet and also in Shakespeare:

This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at
curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and
the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip; mildews
the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.
--King Lear, iii. 4.

spacedani · Mar 2, 2004

Life is colorful, but it all looks kinda gray to me right now.

I have not been feeling so fabulous lately. Probably somewhat hormonal, but probably also New York, but probably also loneliness, but probably also because of the stupid man I’ve had a crush on who I can’t get over because I interact with him every day at work. Because I work directly underneath him. But only in that “copy this for me three times double-sided and stapled on legal-sized paper” sort of way, sadly.

I have an appointment to suffer a barrage of grammar, spelling, proofreading, typing, and the finer points of Microsoft Word tests at another firm on Thursday evening. The job is for an on-call legal secretary, generally working one week at a time, as needed. And it’s in midtown, which cuts my commute in half. I think I really need to get out of my current firm. Get away from Jim. Get away from beige. Get away from Satan’s minions. It will be sad to leave Tim, but we will still hang out. And maybe it will give him some impetus to escape the firm as well. It’s way too easy to get trapped there in a haze of Ordinary and Habit.

I'm directing a play, which is fun and energizing, but really gives me no time for a life. What is life anyway, though? Anyway though. This from a woman testing for grammar in two days.

I’ve been dating a lot, but not the kind of dates that really matter. These people want to play. Which is fine. But the more dates I go on like this, the less appealing “play” becomes, and the more appealing “play with someone who wants to build a life with you” becomes. Don’t think that will happen here in NYC though.

I might be on a reality TV show. But I might not. That’s all I’ll say.

I’m home sick today. I’m not sick, but I’m tired. And I haven’t done my homework due tonight. I suppose that’s what I will do now.

addendum:

spacedani · Mar 4, 2004

J.P. Sartre is making me cry.

Other snippets from my day:

[font=book antiqua, times new roman, times]March 4, 2004

Mr. Boss Man, Principal
Architecture & Interiors
Somewhere on Ninth Avenue
New York, NY 10011

Dear Mr. Man;

I am writing in response to your ad posted on craigslist.org for an office administrator. I am a part-time interior design student at F.I.T. who, as you will see from my attached resume, has extensive experience in office administration.

I was impressed by the professionalism of your website, and know that I can be a positive, productive member of your team. Not only do I take a keen interest in all facets of architecture and interior design, but I’m also a dedicated team player, willing to do whatever it takes for a job well done.

I would love the opportunity to speak with you further and discuss how I am the best candidate for the position. You may reach me during the weekday at 212 ### ####, or evenings and weekends at 917 ### ####.

Very truly yours,

Danielle de Peon

p.s. I have attached my resume in rich text format, and also included it in the body of this message.[/font]

I interviewed/tested at another firm today. It's for an hourly on-call position, which means less hours and no benefits. But I feel like I must get out of my current firm.

I got a write-up yesterday for being late to work too much.

Every time I think I'm over this attorney I work for, I interact with him and realize that I'm not.

He needed help formatting his resume. He uses Word like a fancy typewriter--carriage returning at the end of every line, tabbing to indent and create block quotes, hitting enter multiple times for white space... It was a simple problem. I just added six points below a paragraph to create some space between it and the next headline. As he sat there, I reached across his desk to click the mouse, while explaining what he can do next time he finds himself with the same conundrum. But I couldn't look him in the eye. I can hardly ever look him in the eye. Problem fixed, I walked out.

Anyway: the other firm. I intercommed Attorney today to ask if I could use his name as a reference for any other administrative positions I'd be applying for. He said "sure" without hesitation, almost exuberantly, it seemed. And then questioned, "oh you mean here? Or at another place?" "At another place," I explained calmly. "Oh...well sure, you can use me."

...So this interview/test at the other firm tonight was the epitome of Condescension. A spelling test, a grammar test, a proofreading and punctuation test, a typing test (80 wpm, baby), and a Microsoft Word test—the finer points of it, of course. All but the last are scored right then and there when you finish. Of course, with their barrage of ridiculous questions along the lines of, "True or False? The following is grammatically correct: 'You could of finished it later,'" I earned a perfect score, barring the one typo on my second typing test.

Completely. Absurd. Part of me secretly hoped that they'd see my perfect test and offer me a job with some responsibility, like in the training department or somewhere. But that does not happen. No free rides. I applied for a legal secretary position with no benefits and that's the only offer I'm going to get.

Which brings me back to J.P. "Je ne suis doue pour rien."

I wonder what happens when we die. I wish I knew whether reincarnation and karma were true.

The A train took longer to arrive than usual. By the time I got home from the testing ordeal, it was 10:45. Read J.P. on the way home. And as soon as I shut my front door behind me, I burst into tears.

spacedani · Mar 8, 2004

University of Oregon

I got a letter from the University of Oregon today. It was waiting in my mailbox until I got back tonight from rehearsal for the play I’m directing.

[font=book antiqua, times new roman, times]February 26, 2004

Danielle Z.
My Street, Apt. 4G
New York, NY 10034

Dear Ms. Z:

Congratulations! You are among the candidates selected for admission to the Master of Interior Architecture program Option III at the University of Oregon. You are invited to join us this summer as we begin our ninety-first year, and become part of a tradition where innovation and excellence in architectural education is nationally recognized. The Admissions Committee is impressed with the quality of your submission and potential contribution to the program. We are confident you are a candidate with outstanding potential who will support and enhance our commitment to architectural inquiry.

This offer is contingent upon confirmation of your status by the Graduate School. UO Admissions will send you a Notice of Graduate Admission to confirm your admission to the University of Oregon.

It is with pleasure that we extend these invitations. We are delighted you are considering joining our program.

Sincerely,

Glenda, Associate Professor
Director of Architecture Admissions
Associate Head for Student Affairs

cc: student file[/font]

my reaction, in emoticons:

:up:

:banana:

:nervous:

uke:

:wave:

:nervous:

spacedani · Mar 9, 2004

New York City

from: him

that's great! are you definitely going? when would you go?
---
from: me

I'm not sure. Admission is contingent on some weird thing. I don't really know how it works…

I'm not too worried about it though. Trying to decide whether to drop out of my classes at FIT. Probably will stay though. This grad program is comprehensive, beginning in the summer and starting from scratch. Don't know whether my former/current courses will count for anything.

I think, to answer your question, that I am definitely going. What else would I do with my life? I don't have much of a life here. Plus, it's cold. I want to be able to ride my bike and have a dog that runs around outside. I guess those are kid things, but a certain part of me never grew up, I guess.

That's another reason I feel the need to leave. Coming on four years in NYC, and I feel myself becoming more and more callous, more and more cynical and guarded. I don't want to be that way.

D.
---
from: him

it does sound like you are not happy here. I'm sorry about that.

I love it here, personally. it would be nice to have a bit more space, and not such hard winters, but other than that, I am where I want to be, for now.
---
from: me

I have moments when I do love it here. Like when I walk around a corner and come face to face with a nugget of architectural beauty. Or when, after a rough day, some weirdo in the subway starts talking to himself or dancing and you realize that you cannot help from giggling. Or when it snows for the first time in the season and everything quiets down, like a page out of a fairy tale. Or when you come home from a long day and stop into your local Chinese takeout and enjoy a hot vegetable soup in your living room for $3. Or the freaks who abound yet who aren't freaks because in New York, we're all freaks. Or the fact that I can sing to myself on the street and not get approached or looked at funnily. Or all the actors and artists and creative people. Everyone seems to be an artist or at least a dilettante. And the smart people. You're always sure to find someone smarter than you in your near circle of friends. Well, I am. And it's nice. It's nice not to feel like everyone around you is an idiot. And the fashionable people. I used to not like them but I appreciate them now. There is a certain amour de soi in the fashionistas that you don't see in most other US cities. I'm not the one obsessing over Manolos or going tanning every week, but it's comforting to know that someone else is. Lets me off the hook a little. And the extremes are so absurd that it's funny after a while. You just have to stand back and laugh.

I'm going to miss it, for sure.

I just wish that somehow, I were more a part of it. I haven't felt a part of the magic that is this city. On the edge, peeking in, but not actually there myself.

spacedani · Mar 9, 2004

Oser

- Seneque

My dad just told me this over the phone. After one of the busiest mornings here at work yet, it was really comforting to talk with him for the hour or so that we spoke. About work, neuroses, career, love, money, school, neuroses...

It's easy to forget in an unforgiving world that, somewhere out there, you are loved.

spacedani · Mar 13, 2004

the uncertain future is scary as hell

Met up with the random clan for about 5 minutes last night, on their way to Gotham. Then went over to my friend Tim's new apartment in West Chelsea, then went dancing to 80's music and stink bombs at some gay club in the East Village. About five stink bombs went off on the dance floor while we were there. By the third or fourth one, it was comically absurd: mass exodus from the dance floor to the bar, with a wait of 5-10 minutes before people began to trickle back in to jump around and grind to "She Bop." After a while, people just stayed in there even after the sulpher smell permeated. Laziness, I guess. I had to walk out though.

Slept over at Tim's, because going home to Inwood at 2am would have been a bitch. Does that make me an official fag hag?

Still no "official" letter of acceptance from the Graduate School. Wonder what the "verification process" entails.

Told my bosses. They seemed happy enough for me.

Management is planning on moving this male secretary to sit right behind me in my little alcove at work. Problem is, the guy flatters me a little too overtly. He's British. "Might I say that you look simply delicious today. I don't think I can let my eyes wander below your neck." "I noticed you walking around outside during lunch today, and I dare say, you were all leg..."

Needless to say, I don't want this guy sitting directly behind me, ogling some body part and waxing lascivious. I was in a catch 22, because if I said something to him, it would make our (physically close) working relationship even that much more uncomfortable. So I went to management and asked to float (substitute for vacationing secretaries). Mark, my most senior attorney, was not happy about this. I've been sitting for him since August 2002, and before that he had gone through a string of 14 secretaries in seven years. So now he's fighting the administration to not put Creepy Secretary behind me. We'll see where that leads.

As of Thursday night and for various reasons, I completely gave up on Hot Attorney Jim, whom I had a crush on. The most salient reason is that he doesn't feel the same way about me. Interestingly, as soon as my attitude shifted and I had decided to limit all communication with him to strictly business, he seemingly changed his tune. After I mentioned to my three guys that I'd be floating relatively soon, Jim started emailing me about my plans for the future, when I was leaving the firm for good, whether I plan to travel, etc. He also asked whether I still needed the resume help that I had solicited from him and Andre (my third lawyer) a few weeks ago, yet had received no response about. Weird. Unsettling. Now I understand the underlying theory behind playing "hard to get." Problem is, it's all mental for me. Once I give up, it's hard to feel the same way as before about a guy. But not impossible.

I'm not using spell check for this. I'm just typing it into the little box here.

It's beautiful out, but fucking cold.

I'm scared.

spacedani · Mar 18, 2004

absurdity in "art" and life

Just got back from rehearsal. This play I’m directing is becoming a thorn in my ass. I love directing, don’t get me wrong, but in this case it’s more like a cross between cheerleading and psychotherapy. The writer, who studied “performance art” at NYU, is acting in the piece opposite her real-life boyfriend, who, like me, was trained in Practical Aesthetics (at the Mamet/Macy-founded Atlantic school). She gets frustrated in rehearsal and wants to “let things happen organically,” as opposed to me “telling her what to do.” Thing is, I know she’s the writer, and that this piece is her baby. Every suggestion I give is carefully-worded and considered before delivery, and is offered as just that—a suggestion. But she feels like I “restrict” her, and she wants to try a bunch of things, “not just what I tell her to do.” Okaaaay…

I can tell this is a strain on her relationship, because every time she starts going off about “her vision” and “organic discovery,” he sighs and buries his forehead into his palms. No exaggeration.

I’m VERY flexible with her, but when she’s floundering around onstage doing the same boring thing on the third run of a scene, I’m going to tell her to try something differently. Something specific. Something that I think, as the director, would work better to enhance the scene.

“Danielle, I REALLY appreciate your input and your comments have been valuable, especially the stuff about blocking and cheating out and stuff, but to be honest, I wrote the piece, and I’m trained as a Performance Artist. I’m used to having my own creative vision. That doesn’t mean I don’t want your input, but I guess I’m saying that, like in all Performance Art pieces, as the writer I just need to have final say.”

The “piece” is a 15-minute comic sketch with sung interludes, about a vampire who can’t suck. It’s not “performance art.”

She essentially wants someone to tell her this or that piece of blocking “looks good” or “could be improved.” Well homey don’t play that game.

After much back and forth:

me: “I understand that you’re the writer and that this piece is your baby, so I’ve been very cautious with the direction I’ve given up to now. But the thing is that you’re the writer. And you’re acting in it. And if you’re acting in a piece, you’re too connected to it—both emotionally but also just plain physically—you’re RIGHT THERE. You can’t see what you look like, much less what the set looks like. It sounds like you want to be the director and you want me to be the assistant director—which is fine—but in that case you should have gotten an actress and should have just been the director... This conversation is difficult for me because you’re my friend, and I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship, but to be honest, I don’t feel comfortable putting my ‘directorial stamp’ on it if I am going to defer to you on everything…”

her: “I’m not saying that we just have to do everything I want to do—in fact I’m SURE everything will work out fine now that we’ve had this conversation…”

boyfriend: “Can I say something? Well I don’t feel like Danielle has just been saying ‘do this.’ I mean, she HAS been giving us suggestions and ‘friendly tips,’ if you will, and I’ve never felt like she was saying, ‘you need to do it THIS way…’ In fact, she HAS deferred to you most of the time anyway.

her: “Yeah, I’m probably just a control freak and a bitch…”

me: “You’re not a bitch.”

her: “…but I need to feel like this is a COLLABORATIVE, ORGANIC process…”

AND ON AND ON AND ON…

I’m not happy. It’s sad, really, because the script is decent and they have the potential to put together a really fun, fairly polished piece. But I just can’t work like this.

Had a really affirming office-hours chat with my drafting teacher yesterday. Man, IF ONLY I had him last semester, I might have had a COMPLETELY different outlook on F.I.T., and consequently, New York. I might have even decided to stay. As it was, two out of my three teachers were maniacs—one of them a moody, negative, overly-critical perfectionist and the other a moody, negative, overly-critical cunt. (Turns out, my teacher told me yesterday that the cunt is getting fired, but I can’t tell anyone, so shhh…)

First thing Frank said to me when I sat down in his office yesterday was, “you know you’re doing extremely well in my class…I just want to let you know because I’ve found that often the best students are the most self-effacing.”

Okay, so first: rock on. Second: be my dad. Third: yeah, I am pretty critical of myself.

We talked for well beyond my allotted 20 minutes—about the profession and school (in general, the necessity of training and accreditation [you don’t really need to go to an accredited school; you just need a kick-ass portfolio]), of making your own way and creating a future for yourself, of following your bliss and the inescapable depression that arises when you don’t, of his past experience as the HUD manager of New York, and how he threw away the lucrative career for a much more satisfying (albeit less glamorous and lower-paying) life of a teacher, about New York and getting out, and about life in general. I felt so affirmed at the end of our discussion; he even got out of his seat to give me a hug as I left. Wow. They don’t make many teachers like that anymore.

As I walked down the hall I spied my former teacher and current department chair sitting in his office. “Hi Takashi!” I exclaimed. No response. Ha.

Hot Damn! I’m fucking moving to Oregon!

I told myself I want to have as much fun as possible before I leave. Funny, because with that internal resolve alone, eager men seem to be crawling out of the woodwork to oblige. I must be completely transparent. Or something.

spacedani · Mar 21, 2004

Whose life is it, anyway?

So I talked to the writer today. I'm not directing the play anymore, thank God. Apparently, I was right about their relationship, and for whatever reason, the play was ruining it. Something to do with me, but she wouldn't say, exactly. Apparently, they broke up after rehearsal a couple weeks ago, and have since gotten back together. But he's more into the play than he is their relationship, according to her. Apparently, some "emotions" came up that make it too difficult for to have me around. A couple weeks ago, she mentioned something during a "say something about your day and do a stretch" warm-up about "jealousy" and new emotions etc. etc. etc.

Hmm...

Well I never came on to her boyfriend/co-actor in the slightest. How gauche. Besides, I only date older, stable men. Now.

Found a new radio station I can live with for a stretch. University of York radio. British people are so much cooler than Americans. And sandwiched between snippets of Idlewild and The Needles, they broadcast short international news stories that you wouldn't hear on NPR.

I should be cleaning my apartment. Woke up at 2pm today, after a night of disturbing abandonment dreams--standard fare, really. Went to see Enon and the Black Heart Procession at the Bowery last night. Hadn't seen either of them ever, and it was not what I expected. BHP was a sort of blend between Pink Floyd and late Metallica of the symphonic variety--not at all my style. But I invited this chick and we were there together, so I couldn't just leave. By the time I started to fall asleep standing, I finally was like, "I have to go..." Took something like 2 hours to get home from the Lower East Side. And after my dinner of Smoochies with a free topping of peanut butter cups (because I wear purple glasses) and later a vodka tonic, I got home with a splitting headache and a pressing desire to ralph. I didn't though. Popped an Advil and slept 'til 2, having dreamt of clearcutting rainforests and becoming homeless.

If I were to stay in NY, which I won't, I would move to a neighborhood I can go out in, and come home to easily. I'd go home after work, change clothes, then go out and have fun. I'd not be so cheap. I'd not be so uptight. I'd get rid of all my clothes and buy a few new, fabulous pieces. I'd get a real job, even if it meant a pay decrease. I'd maybe buy an apartment. Possibly start a business. In essence: get a life.

As it stands, I'm soon moving to Oregon, cats in tow. Some New Yorker friends have expressed concern that I don't know what I'm getting into. From the idea that "it's boring there" to "watch out for the Nazis" to "there are too many tree-huggers there," with consensus on the fact that "it's beautiful there" and that "it rains a lot there." The lady I bonded with while shoe shopping yesterday said "at least you'll be very fashionable to them." Decided against purchasing the $160 hot-as-hell stiletto Fuck-Me Boots, reduced from $465. No problem walking in them, but can't foresee many opportunities to wear them in Eugene. Might as well spend my money on an i-pod. When I get there. (No sales tax.)

Jesus. What the fuck am I doing, moving across the world?? Three years. I'm thinking that when I get out, I could get a job with a swank design firm and move back. At least I'd have a Real Job. I don't know though. The subway will still be the subway and snow will still be snow.

How does everyone else live? Life is perplexing.

spacedani · Mar 22, 2004

coffee is for closers

Went to bed last night with a distinct feeling of dread for the first time. Like, 'why am I wasting my life at this job?' I’m usually not too thrilled about passing my days here, but today was particularly annoying. Not for any particular reason, other than ‘what the fuck?!’ What a waste of life.

My lunchly 24 minutes on the treadmill is becoming easier. Today I felt like I could run on and on. Kind of. I think that, along with the cocktail of some 20-odd vitamins I swallow each morning, is probably what keeps me from jumping in front of the J-train. How pathetic would that be? Not only to die at the hands of the MTA, but also by the redheaded stepchild of trains: the friggin’ J.

Do you ever feel like a sham? Like any day now, someone—your boss, your teachers, your friends—will figure you for the big, fat, transparent SHAM that you are? That’s my fear. And it’s probably what keeps me from finishing anything of consequence and inconsequence, such as career choices [acting] and any reading material that doesn’t come to my mailbox every month in an accessible, image-laden format. I’m afraid that if I start this top-rated GRADUATE PROGRAM at the University of Oregon, a couple semesters in, the professors will recognize me for the sham that I am. I’ll skate through, but then no one will want to hire me when I get out, because my work was uninspired. That’s my fear.

(Funny that in the rankings, FIT is higher than U.O. I’m leaving #7 to go to #10. La dee da.)

How do I get over this fear and stop sabotaging everything I start? Scary scary scary. I guess another fear is that people will find out that I’m actually competent, and expect me to be some kind of design/acting/artistic/musical/linguistic/whatever-I’m-focusing-on-at-that-moment-in-time goddess. God forbid I’m actually good at something and people start expecting me to close every deal. No coffee is good enough for that kind of pressure.

Where is the missing piece?

spacedani · Mar 24, 2004

bye bye bye

André is leaving for the Hong Kong office for six months. Today is the last day I will probably ever see him. How sad. All three of my guys have been great, but I have to say that he's the most low-maintenance, low-key of the bunch. After being his secretary for over a year and a half, this makes me sad.

People leaving makes me sad.

On a lighter note, I'm trying to get my other attorney, Jim, to hook up one of his single friends with my cousin. She gets in from Paris on Friday.

I have computer modeling class tonight, and I really don't want to go. It's boring as hell and seems to last for hours. Well, I guess technically, it does.

FIT-ward ho!

spacedani · Mar 25, 2004

for multiple reasons

Take This Job and Shove It

By David Allan Coe

Chorus: TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT/ I AIN’T WORKING’ HERE NO MORE MY WOMAN DONE LEFT AND TOOK ALL OF THE REASONS I WAS WORKING FOR YOU BETTER NOT TRY TO STAND IN MY WAY/ WHEN I WALK OUT THE DOOR TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT/ I AIN’T WORKING’ HERE NO MORE

I BEEN WORKING IN THIS FACTORY/ PRETTY CLOSE TO 15 YEARS I’VE SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS’ WOMEN/ STANDING IN A POOL OF TEARS I’VE SEEN A LOT OF KINFOLKS DYING/ I HAD A LOT OF BILLS TO PAY LORD, I’D GIVE THE SHIRT RIGHT OFFING’ MY BACK/ IF I HAD THE NERVE TO SAY:

Repeat Chorus

THE FOREMAN IS A REGULAR SOB. AND THE NIGHT BOSS, HE’S A FOOL HE GOT HIMSELF A BRAND NEW FLATTOP HAIRCUT LORD, HE REALLY THINKS THAT’S COOL ONE OF THESE DAYS I’M GONNA BLOW MY TOP AND THERE’S GONNA BE HELL TO PAY I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THEIR FACES WHEN I GET THE NERVE TO SAY

Repeat Chorus

spacedani · Mar 25, 2004

I :love: abuse.

I got my final warning for lateness this afternoon. If I keep it up, it's hasta la vista for me.

I told the secretarial manager everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.

"You're completely right. This is totally unacceptable, and it's really childish of me to come in late every day. I'm paid to come in on time.

I wasn’t going to tell you this until closer to the date, but I got accepted to grad school and I’ll probably be leaving in June.

I know I can do my job well and it’s not that I’m a bad secretary, but I think the fact of the matter is that I just don’t want to be here. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a secretary. My guys are fine, but sometimes with Mark…it’s difficult to describe, but sometimes I just feel like I’m on the receiving end…I just keep receiving and receiving…I don’t know how to say it…sometimes it makes it difficult to leave the house in the morning.”

[At which point I started to get choked up and had to shut up.]

“I guess I’ll let you know closer to when I know when I’m leaving. That is, if I don’t get myself fired first.”

I know, I’m stoopid. You’re not supposed to tell that to the secretarial manager.

But it made me realize that Mark is fucking abusive, and I have just been taking it like the good li'l fucked-up girl that I am. I even COVER for him when other secretaries bad-mouth him:

them: "You work for Mark _____?? How's THAT? [raised eyebrow]"
me: "Y'know, it's really not bad. He's a nice guy. He's just very...particular. But in a way I don't blame him, I mean, if *I* were a lawyer, I'd want everything perfect, too. I don't really let his temper get to me. When he starts going off about something, I just smile and nod and stay calm. Like water off a duck's back..."
them: "Well you're a better person than I. *I* couldn't work for him."

The man has gone through 14 secretaries in 7 years. But I've stuck it out for this long. Why? Because his condescending manner and volatile personality don't bother me? No, it's because I've convinced myself that his behavior is "par for the course," and that I'm "lucky to have this job," so I just swallow it. And swallow it. And keep swallowing. And swallowing. And suppressing. Until I'm so full of his subtle judgments and criticism that it becomes a part of me and I don't know what's true and what's bullshit anymore. And I fucking BELIEVE the intent behind his thinly-veiled tone, which is "you're stupid, Danielle, and I'm going to tell you what to do. one. thing. at. a. time. because. otherwise. you. won't. get. it. and you'll. fuck. up... Again. Was that clear?" [I don't make a lot of mistakes, but when the guy is breathing down my neck, they tend to happen more frequently.]

Okay so why did I stay? When management put me there, they didn't say anything was wrong with him, they just said that for various reasons, he had "weird" secretaries who simply "didn't work out." What, did the secretarial manager have some sort of weird personality profiling device when she put me there? Did she think to herself, "THIS one, I have a feeling, will finally work out for Mark. She's docile enough to not talk back, yet smart enough to be able to please him in that "half-mind-reading" way that he requires. Plus, I can tell she's already got confidence issues that will keep her at an abusive desk without realizing she's metaphorically getting the crap beaten out of her."

I am like a battered wife, except without the batter. Or the sex. Or his money. I put up with his crap, his perfectionism, his incredibly high-maintenance-dom, his temper, his cussing, his curt-ness (enough to call him "curt" and not flat-out "rude," which is actually what he can be sometimes--ha! "sometimes")--I put up with it and I even defend him, because somewhere deep down, the verbal abuse is comforting.

"But he's actually a really nice guy. He really looks out for his secretary. Like if a package somehow gets delayed, he'll bitch out the service department, and even though he yells to me, too, it's not AT me...He's very generous and kind. He gave me a bigger bonus than my other two guys combined...He always asks about my cats and seems to take a genuine interest...He wrote me a really glowing letter of recommendation for grad school, and I got in!"

But then I wake up with feelings of inadequacy and fear after having dreamt about not being able to please or placate him, while his reaction was one of piercing sarcastic cruelty and condescension. And then I'm half an hour late to work, because I stall to avoid living out the nightmare.

And then I go to improv practice on the weekend and I can't let myself be heard on the stage. And I get in my head. And I think I'm a fraud and I can't do it and what the hell do I think I'm doing, up there with lawyers and art directors and teachers and filmmakers? I'm just a friggin' SECRETARY who fucks up at every turn. And I'll initiate in this scene, but as soon as it starts to go anywhere I'll pull back, because what if I made the wrong choice? What if I can't keep up with my partner who's smarter and funnier than me? What if there's a game but I don't see it? What if I have to sing, and I forget the structure? Can't make a rhyme? Make no sense? Sing off key? Can't be heard? Shit a brick?

I feel like I'm too old for feeling like this. Wasn't this all supposed to go the way of grunge?

spacedani · Apr 6, 2004

i wish you weren't leaving.

Someone wrote this to me today. It made me feel good in that "I'm wanted" sort of way, but bad in that "I'm leaving" sort of way.

This was my reply:

In other news, I can't seem to get to work on time. I think I really want to get fired.

Spring break this week. Another week of putting off my drafting homework. :jump:

What the hell. Here’s some private info, for anyone yearning for the orange bottle days of yore.

Got an email today from someone I went on a date with a couple weeks ago.

In other private info that’s really no one’s business but my own, but which I put here because I’m an attention-whore, like the rest of us:

I’ve been living lately. There really is something to be said for a devil-may-care “fuck it all to hell” attitude. Screw social convention and accepted societal roles! Yay for showing up dead-tired and half an hour late to work, because you hardly slept at all, but don’t know how long you slept exactly, since you weren’t the one to set the alarm!

And the cousin visit was a blast. I played hookie from work on Wednesday and Thursday and we shopped and went to museums and walked around, and every night that I didn’t have class, we went out and ate many bagels and spent money on girl stuff like clothes and shoes and laughed at overpriced Bedford avenue “thrift” shops and saw Broadway plays and went to bars with drink minimums and jazz quintets and didn’t have to pay the $15/head cover at Joe’s Pub to see a band play and got ogled by men who don’t regularly encounter the kind of beauty that she uniquely possesses. Good times, good times. I miss her already.

Floor Plan B

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