Mercury is in retrograde. Shortly after my last post, I began looking for new jobs. I took one 20 minute phone interview on a Friday and was offered a job as a Creative Director on Monday—my birthday. I told my manager (who was by far the best part of my job and I really miss her) I was leaving that night, and I never went back. I get to work remotely. Every day I wake up happy, and the people I work with have equal parts respect for design and trust in what I can do. Being able to see that after working with them for only a couple weeks speaks volumes. Needless to say, it was an occasionally beautiful 4.5 years with ITmedia/XYZ/Cyber2/what-the-fuck-ever, and I am coming away from it feeling thankful to have gained the friendship and love of so many sweet, smart people and enough design knowledge to land me my dream title.
Mr. Dekker and I are moving in March. The original plan was Portland, but then we realized Portland still has a lot of the things we hate about LA (a population of pompous assholes, for starters). The cost of living wasn't much cheaper and that damn article about the Cascadia earthquake really scared me—I don't care how many theory-debunking responses are written, the whole west coast is still gonna shake to death someday. It became clear that the goal wasn't to move to Portland, the goal was just to get outta here. So we're gonna go to Buffalo, where the cost of living is cut in half, the people are friendly and unpretentious, the tech industry and culture are booming, and the summers are lush and green. I'm excited to be under a 6 hour flight from my family for the first time in 6 years.
Since our time in LA is limited, we've been doing a lot of things. Last weekend's thing was the Madonna Inn WHICH IS SO FULL OF COLORS AND OLD PEOPLE. We checked into our green room with the warm cookies that they gave us at reception, had a drink at the bright pink bar, and then ate at a bright pink steakhouse while a sea of glamorous old people and bachelorette parties danced to jazz standards played by more old people. Everyone was happy, everything was made of flowers. The sugar was pink. The receipts were pink. The ceilings had glitter on them. I woke up out of a dream in which I offered to design a website—thebigyellowcouch.com—for an older man named John Osterre who hugged me so warmly in my dream that I googled his name when I woke up to see who he was. He was nobody, and his website doesn't exist either. I wonder if we'll meet in a future life.