Yes, Yes, I'm Still Here...

I’ve been in hibernation since early July, stricken with a case of seasonal depression.  The weather in Austin is unrelenting: 108 degrees and sunny.  Every. Single. Day.  A person can only take so much sunshine.

The so-called “sun shades” in my apartment just aren’t cutting it anymore.  I’ll crank the thermostat down to 60 degrees in a childish fit and an hour later it’s still 85 degrees in my living room.  In an attempt to block out all traces of sunlight, my husband and I took a bunch of old flattened moving boxes and boarded up our floor-to-ceiling windows.  I’m pretty sure that violates some sort of Feng Shui principle, but it’s better than slowly melting to death on our leather couch.

Last week, while the East Coast was grappling with an unprecedented earthquake and a massive 100-year storm, something even more rare and unexpected occurred here in Austin ...  It rained.  For, like, five whole minutes.  It was crazy.  This one dark cloud appeared on the horizon, and everyone was like, “Whoa, what is that?”  People dropped what they were doing and ran outside to watch the raindrops fall, capturing the event on their cell phones and alerting the public via social media: “OMG, is that? ... Could it be? ... It’s raining!”

Interestingly, that was the first day in a long time that I actually felt like writing.  But what to write?  Now that the novelty of blogging has worn off, it feels like a chore.  An incredibly time-consuming chore.  I’ve been waiting for a sign as to whether I should continue sending my thoughts into the great internet void, and finally one appeared in the form of an email reminding me that I have unused stock photo credits.  I realized that if I were to end my blog now, I would be wasting nine dollars.  I am way too cheap to let that happen. And so, my blog will live on!

First things first, I should probably update you on everything that’s happened over the last couple of months:

• The food trailer that serves my favorite vegan mac ‘n cheese closed down.  That means I will have to spend countless hours attempting to recreate it.  All I know about their mysterious “cheeze” sauce is that it contains potatoes and mustard.  I am not expecting it to go well.
• On a whim, I purchased a highly impractical, decorative fruit bowl crafted out of a single piece of chrome wire.  It now sits empty on our kitchen counter.  My husband recently started wearing it around on his head.  He calls it his “time-travel hat.”

• Silverfish have inexplicably invaded our bathroom.  We took immediate action and sprayed an allegedly non-toxic pesticide along the baseboards.  (We made sure to wear swim goggles and a dust mask while spraying, just in case.)  If that doesn’t get rid of them, we’ll have to move.

Well, you are now officially up to speed.  Can you tell I haven’t been doing much lately?  My husband thinks I am in need of a clearly defined goal.  He insists that happiness comes from having a goal and making progress towards it.  Of course, he has plenty of goals and he's just as miserable as I am.  But it’s true that I’ve lost momentum.  Having a clearly defined goal couldn’t hurt.

Okay, so what should my new goal be?  There are so many options to choose from!

a) Jump-start the writing of my memoir by signing up for National Novel Writing Month.  If you write 50,000 words during the month of November, you get a web badge that says “Winner” and a PDF Winner’s Certificate.  Sweet!

b) Apply to a Creative Writing MFA program.  This would require me to retake the GRE exam (what do you mean those scores were only good for five years?!) and obtain three letters of recommendation from people who are "familiar with my writing" (that means you, blog followers!).  I suspect that all of this would earn me a personalized rejection letter from the school of my choice.

c) Go to vegetarian culinary school and open up my own vegan food trailer.  (It has come to my attention that there is a gaping hole in the market for vegan mac ‘n cheese.)

d) Work for my husband again, this time as his “office manager.”  I do love efficiency.

e) Go out and get a real job.  (Gasp!)

f) Go out and get a puppy (preferably a poodle named Noodles) and teach him to do tricks.


Thoughts?

Home, Stressful Home

Currently, my husband and I are renting an apartment in downtown Austin – part of a gradual transition from our New York City lifestyle.  Every six months, we revisit the idea of buying a house and becoming real adults.  Although the process is intimidating and the permanence terrifying, there are definitely some perks to owning a home.  We could paint the walls without having to ask for permission (I’d paint my kitchen “Crimson” and “Citron” and immediately regret it).  We could have grass (dead brown grass that we wouldn’t be allowed to water due to drought restrictions).  We could keep our neighbors at a distance and wouldn’t have to listen to their kids playing tag in the hallway (someone get them some grass already!). And we could finally build that underground survival shelter that we’ve always dreamed of.

In an ongoing effort to convince my husband that owning a house can be fun and rewarding and isn’t just a big hassle, I tricked him into accompanying me on the Austin Cool House Tour.  Held twice a year, the tour is open to the public and showcases “green” homes that are renewably powered and energy efficient, with solar panels and rainwater collection systems and roof overhangs and low-E windows.  More importantly, I knew that the owners of the featured homes would be trying hard to show them off.  They’ve spent years building their green dream homes – they want you to be impressed.   Sure enough, every house we visited was spotless and beautifully decorated, with minimal clutter and fresh flowers in every room.  It was a welcome change from the open houses I’ve attended, where the homes usually aren’t staged and often appear neglected, and the sale sign out front might as well read: “Someone please take this dilapidated property off my hands.  I regret ever buying this stupid house.  Sincerely, The Owner.”  Personally, I’m more inclined to buy a house if I know that the owner would never dream of selling it to me.

It’s no surprise, then, that I fell in love with every house on the Cool House tour.  My husband, not so much, but I did my best to sway him.  At every house we visited, I would turn to him and say, “Isn’t this house breathtaking?  I bet the people who live here are so happy and don’t regret buying this house at all.”  My husband’s biggest fear about buying a house in Texas is the insects (for most of his life, he lived a bug-free existence in frigid Canada), so I made sure to draw his attention to the screened-in patios.  “Look honey, you can be outside without really being outside!  Look at these impenetrable screens!  No bugs are getting in here, that’s for sure.”

His other big fear is home maintenance – right now, we don’t even change our own light bulbs – so I threw in a lot of reassuring remarks like “These walls sure look sturdy” and “This metal roofing practically takes care of itself.”  A lot of men take pride in fixing things around the house, but not my husband.  He would literally throw out the television before he would assume the task of mounting it on the wall.  It’s not like he can’t do it.  He once spent an entire summer scouring the aisles at Home Depot for wooden dowels, which he then used to build a functioning computer made entirely out of wood!  (Sorry ladies, he’s taken.)  He’s just not interested in home repair.  He’s more than happy to fix my computer, but if the faucet springs a leak, forget it.  We barely own any tools.  Just a hammer and a drill that we used once to hang a decorative candleholder.  And that didn’t exactly work out.  We were left with a gaping hole in our wall that we eventually covered up with a picture frame.

Anyway, I understand his hesitation.  I have my own fears about buying a house.  What if we get bored and want to move somewhere else?  Having lived in Austin for only a year and a half, it seems like an awfully big commitment to make.  Can I really see myself living here for the long-term?  I guess it’s a good sign that when I’m procrastinating, I often find myself browsing the Austin real estate listings and fantasizing about living in a big, lovely house in West Austin, throwing dinner parties for non-existent friends, welcoming guests into my foyer and saying, “Please have a seat in my formal sitting room.”  As opposed to now, when I say, “Well, you’re in my apartment.  This is pretty much it.”

Just to be clear, I have absolutely no desire to build a house from the ground up, spending a year or more agonizing over every little decision, picking tiles and sorting through carpet samples.  No thank you!  I want a house that comes already built and already perfect, with a note on the door that says, “Welcome, Jami, to your ready-to-go dream house!  We’ve taken the liberty of decorating and furnishing it for you.”

Recently, I thought I had found just such a home.  It had been built by an architect for his own family using green building techniques and the finest materials.  It was a house with character, and by that, I don’t mean old and run-down; I mean warm and rustic.  I convinced my husband to go see it with me.  Apparently, a few days too late.  When we arrived at the showing, the real estate agent informed us that the owner had just accepted another offer.  She showed us the house anyway, and knowing that it was off the market, I wanted it even more.  I couldn’t believe someone had stolen my dream house right out from under me!   I trudged around that big, beautiful house, mumbling under my breath the entire time.  “I’m sure that bastard will really enjoy all of this countertop space.”

A week later, I received a phone call from the real estate agent.  The bastard had defaulted on his payment and the contract had been severed.  My dream home was officially back on the market!  Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about the house.  Maybe we were getting ahead of ourselves.  We couldn’t possibly make use of all that space.  It’s kind of awkward when a thirty-something couple buys an enormous house; you might as well label the empty bedrooms: “Reserved for possible future child.”  (Better get on that!)

Around the same time, I spoke to my friend and her husband who had just purchased their first home.  On their third (yes, third!) day as homeowners, they showed up to move some of their stuff in and found the basement flooded with two feet of raw sewage.  My friend’s husband, whose first instinct was to shut off the water, made the mistake of wading through it and ended up in the hospital.  Meanwhile, men in hazmat suits ripped apart their basement, tearing out walls and carpeting and making an awful mess.  They found out later that it was the city’s fault and are now in a legal battle over the damages.

After having several nightmares in the vein of The Money Pit starring Tom Hanks, I told the real estate agent that we were passing on the house.  “Maybe in six months,” I said.  After that, my husband and I started toying around with the idea of buying a condo downtown.  No sooner had we decided to go check out the condos for sale in the newly opened W hotel across the street, when the glass panels on the exterior of the building started falling off at random.  Several people were injured by the falling glass, and the entire hotel had to be shut down “until further notice.”

... Um, yeah, that about settles it.  I think we’ll just stay in our rental apartment and pray that the walls don’t come crumbling down around us.

Festivals Galore!

It’s that time of year again in Austin, when the weather is perfect and every weekend brings a festival of some sort.  Today, the celebration is threefold as Saint Patrick’s Day coincides with both South by Southwest and the Austin Rodeo.  I’m not sure whether to wear green, dress like a hipster, or don my cowboy hat.

The music portion of South by Southwest is already in full swing with 2,000 bands performing around downtown Austin in the span of four days – and those are only the official shows.  Every venue in the city is throwing some kind of party.  The dentist office around the corner from me is hosting a three-day event called "Mouth by Mouthwest" with twenty bands and a full bar (but don’t worry, the on-call dentists are limiting themselves to two drinks apiece).

Because I live in downtown Austin, I can hear the music and the screaming crowds from inside my apartment.  All.  Day.  Long.  How am I supposed to concentrate on writing when there’s a party raging outside my window?  Ever since I broke my leg in the ninth grade and had to be homeschooled for a few months, I have a fear of missing out on fun things.  If it were up to me, I’d be out in the street, drinking green beer and listening to that indie chick who plays the ukulele and sings African chants, but my husband likes to remind me that it’s Thursday and “at least one of us has to work.”

If it was a one-time thing he’d probably humor me, but Austin loves to celebrate and hardly ever takes a day off.  I don’t even set my alarm anymore; I just rely on the daily parades to wake me up.  Nothing infuriates my husband more than a parade.  He’ll go out on the balcony and start waving his fists around while yelling, “Another parade?!  Don’t you people ever stop?!  What’s wrong with you?!  For the love of God, put down your trombones and go home!”

I expect parades and live music on Saint Patrick’s Day, Fat Tuesday, and Cinco de Mayo.  Texas Independence Day?  Why not!  A day to celebrate ice cream?  Sure!  But what about hot sauce?  Reggae music?  Urban music?  Celtic music?  Bluegrass music?  Let’s not forget about Jugglefest.  Or Fantastic Fest.  Or Fun Fun Fun Fest.  There’s the Gypsy Picnic Festival, the Louisiana Swamp Thing Festival, the Old Pecan Street Festival, the Sherwood Forest Faire, the Zilker Kite Festival, Batstravaganza, Batfest (yes, it’s different), The Dragon Boat Festival, The Rattlesnake Sacking Festival…

And then there are the weird ones, like No Pants Day.  Or the 13th Annual Mighty Texas Dog Walk, where Austinites and their dogs attempt to break the Guinness World Record for “Largest Dog Walk.”   Austin has been celebrating Eeyore’s birthday (yes, that Eeyore) since the 1960s with drum circles and a maypole. The Keep Austin Weird Festival includes a costumed 5K run with a pit stop at an ice cream shop; its tagline is “the slowest 5K you’ll ever run.”  My personal favorite is the Hairy Man Festival, which features a petting zoo, karaoke, and, of course, the Hairiest Man Contest.  I still have yet to check out the No Idea Festival, which is entirely unplanned and improvised.  (Yes, these are all real events.)

With so many festivals, it’s amazing that partygoers manage to keep them all straight.  The Republic of Texas Biker Rally and the Austin Gay Pride Parade are held in the same location on back-to-back weekends.  Imagine mixing up those Saturdays.  It probably wouldn’t take you very long to figure out your mistake.

Well, time to give up for the day and join the party.  Happy Festivaling!

Sarcastic 30-Year-Old Female Seeks Bestest Writing Buddy

Are you a woman between the ages of 22 and 40 with a passion for writing, a dry sense of humor, and plenty of free time?  Do you live within 10 minutes of downtown Austin?  Do you enjoy mocking others over a cup of coffee or many beers?  If so, I would like to invite you to audition for the role of my best friend / writing companion.

For several weeks now, I’ve been scouring the Austin writing scene for such a person, attending various creative writing Meetups and critique groups.  I can’t even begin to tell you how much bad writing I’ve subjected myself to on this quest for friendship.  And I mean really bad.  The general rule when critiquing someone else’s work is that you’re supposed to offer at least one positive comment; this is an area in which I struggle.  I’ll end up saying something like, “Well, I thought your avoidance of plot was really innovative. The main character didn’t actually do anything.  It was like we were trapped inside her head, listening to whatever random, pointless thoughts she was having.  So, um, great job!”  In my experience, comments such as this one rarely spark lasting friendships.

I've also noticed that the other writers who attend these groups are either much younger or much older than I am.  It's as if all of the thirty-year-olds have retreated from the social scene to play house and make babies.  On Facebook, my friends’ smiling faces have all been replaced by pictures of big-eyed, drooling infants.  Meanwhile, I’m left socializing with older retired ladies and college girls with fake IDs.

Last week, I went to my first fiction writing class, where the teacher kicked things off with a guided visualization.  She had us close our eyes and said weird stuff like “Listen to yourself breathe” and “Your hands are getting heavy” and “Let everything go white.”  I took the opportunity to blatantly stare at my fellow classmates, sizing them up and trying to decide who might be good friend material.  There was only one girl who I thought had potential.  She had bright pink hair and the only thing she said all night was “Go @#$% yourself,” but she didn’t say it to anyone in particular – it was part of a creative exercise.  Anyway, she didn’t show up to this week’s class, so it looks like I’m back to square one.

"You may all go to Hell and I will go to Texas" – Davy Crockett

This month marks the approximate one-year anniversary of my decision to leave New York City and move to Austin, Texas.  People always assume that my husband and I relocated for work or to be closer to family, but in fact we didn’t have a good reason.  I blame boredom.  And garbage.  On a beautiful, crisp autumn morning, my husband and I were enjoying a lovely stroll to our favorite New York brunch place and had to dodge several sky-high mountains of trash, an infinite amount of dog crap, and one particularly disgusting puddle of vomit.  By the time we reached the restaurant, we had decided to get the hell out of that city.

So we made a list of cool cities with fewer people, cheaper beer, and more favorable tax rates.  I had recently quit my job in finance and my husband worked from home, so we were free to go anywhere.  Austin was the first city on our list, so we flew down for a three-day visit.  Due to sheer laziness, we never made it to the other cities.  (Seattle was number two, but whatever – I hear it rains a lot in Seattle.)

I like to tell people that we moved to Texas completely on a whim because we’re such spontaneous, adventure-seeking individuals.  But in reality, the decision involved a very lengthy, detailed assessment of the pros and cons of living in New York versus Austin.  Here are just a few of my favorites:

AUSTIN PROS

• Super friendly – people say hello in the elevator!
• Good public schools in case we ever have kids
• Convenient outdoor trails in case we ever go running
• Laidback hippie town is probably more our style

AUSTIN CONS

• Requires owning a car and knowing how to drive it
• Neither of us look good in cowboy hats
• Will have to find new dentist
• No direct international flights except to Cancun
• Insanely hot summers (i.e. outside = sweating, even at night while sitting still)
• Possibility of being attacked by killer bees, scorpions, or poisonous spiders

NEW YORK PROS

• Online grocery shopping
• Has the best of everything
• Diverse population
• People are always impressed when you say you’re from New York

NEW YORK CONS

• Subway stations are the most disgusting places on Earth
• Insane taxes (none of which goes to cleaning up the subway)
• Greater chance of being attacked by terrorists or rats
• A pint of beer costs a small fortune
• No Dairy Queen or Target
• We never actually go to museums or to the opera or to the theater or to charity galas, nor do we shop in any fancy boutiques
• I refuse to navigate a stroller in a city of 8 million people
• The only grass nearby is fenced off inside the public housing projects

I think we always knew we would go but were afraid to leave New York after eight years.  That city has a way of sucking you in and making you unable to function in the outside world.  “What do you mean, I have to drive there?”  “What do you mean, you don’t deliver?”  “Why is everything closed at 9pm?"  It would certainly be an adjustment, but in the end, we thought it would be worth it.

When we shared the big news with some of our acquaintances who were die-hard New Yorkers, they thought we had lost our minds.  Their response was something along the lines of, “So you’re just going to Texas?  Like, voluntarily?  No, you lost me.”  In defense of our decision, I reminded them of the fable from Who Moved My Cheese? where the little rats learn to embrace change, savor the adventure, and enjoy the taste of new cheese.  This did not convince them of my sanity.

But a year later, I’m still happy with the decision we made.  A change of scenery is great for getting unstuck in your career.  I've also discovered that Austin is an ideal city for creative types.  And I have yet to be attacked by killer bees.

The Next Big Idea

So I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided to become an entrepreneur!  With my finance background and attention to detail, I should have no problem launching a successful new venture.  I’m confident that I’ll be the best boss I’ve ever had.

According to Entrepreneur Magazine, Austin is the perfect city in which to start a small business.  The success rate is among the highest in the nation.   The economy is strong, taxes are low, and real estate is inexpensive.  The population is growing, and The Wall Street Journal recently dubbed Austin a “Youth Magnet” city.  The culture is progressive and creative, and the residents take pride in the local, independent businesses.  Hence the slogan, “Keep Austin Weird.”

There are certainly fewer chain stores in Austin.  Instead of Barnes & Noble, we have BookPeople.  Instead of Ben & Jerry’s, we have Amy’s Ice Cream.  And instead of Regal Cinemas, we go to the Alamo Drafthouse.  These local businesses aren’t just smaller – they’re usually better.  At the Alamo Drafthouse, they serve beer during the movies, play drinking games, and hire comedians to mock bad films in the spirit of Mystery Science Theater.  (Seriously, why didn’t I think of that?)  Austin has also started some great trends: natural and organic grocery stores, the food truck revolution, and roller derby!

Now all I need is a fabulous business idea.  Well...I could...um... Yeah, so why don’t you tell me your best idea, and if I like it, I’ll cut you in for five percent.