How I Work

How I Work

I’m not the typical bandwagoner candidate for meme’s, but this one struck me, partly because we’re in the midst of a major thrust into the 21st century in terms of the office (and the technology therein), but mostly because I haven’t used my snazzy new camera since BlogHer and that’s just bad camera juju.

So here’s the tour, the inside look, the sneak peek, the bonus* track of my creative space.

The walking into space, more commonly referred to as “the doorway”. But I’m not common, and neither shall my space be defined as such, yo.

Please note the rarity of a small human being (who at the snap of this shot, had just run out of frame in the bottom left corner there) not perched in that corner chair with Agnes, hurling, slingshot style, angry creatures of flight at robust, snorting pork beings.

Ah, let the sun shine in, will ya! This is my Mecca for all random craps to be placed. It’s still organized chaos, but a far cry from my typical anal retentive habits for things on things where YOU CAN SEE THINGS!

Elves, Audrey, chocolate, business cards (yes, I take so many, I use a mail organizer for to stash store them), checkbooks, reading materials, viewing materials, audio materials, coins, candle holders, and don’t even get me started on the contents of those six drawers. Two of which? Won’t even open they’re so Thanksgiving-turkey-stuffed, yet far less tasty because there is no StoveTop involved. Well, there might be a box in there somewhere…

Every second of your “fashion” life Sometimes you need to indulge in fashion tips. Other times you need to reality check yo’self before you wreck yo’self with greed. Most of the time you need to experience the enlightening that comes from taking a peek inside the passion that drove others to success. In all fairness, it really boils down to memorizing the inflections of magical trains, taking a break to laugh your ass off to one of the best seasons of an extinct sitcom, and keeping your intimidating and ultimatum-ing skills fresh.

Ying Yang Twins, business cards, yarn, checkbooks, harmonica in C box lid, and a capo, naturally.

Now, toss two pennies in the “Grow A Family’s Peace of Mind” pot and get your earworm on.

Acoustics, and Collections, and Vinyls…OH MY! Probably one of my most favoritest corners of the office.

The boring-ish part. The work** part. The stereo, flashity-flash drives, mini speakers, Street Sweeper Social Club, files, files, files, and all adjacent to my stash…

…of cookies that are less of a hindrance and more of a delicate reminder, when reaching for an envelope or USB cord, to take a break for the enjoyment of their spare tire contributing goodness. Because, don’t kid yourself, you’ll end up eating six. (notice: almost void state of said cookie container, shall be void by completion of post) I’m certain this is the manufacturer of shelving unit accessories’ intention for hanging side baskets, by the way.

The factory. Where gold is churned and mostly misplaced because something crashed, something burned, something dumped and somehow I ended up over in this corner, rocking slowly in the fetal position, with crusty vomit in my hair and fear lasers shooting beams of hatred from my eyeballs. We’re obviously making a replacement to my technology parts. For now I rock the make believe desktop and outdated mouse pad, from radio days of yore, like a pair of jeggings on a Friday night. Awwww, yeah!

The crack pad. Always close by is the mighty Crackberry. Here she lies surrounded by AMPAD’s aplenty. It’s like Fred Flintsone meets Lady Gaga. Where’s my chisel?

The wall. The dripping with greatness, wall above all other walls. Literally, it’s on the second floor of the house so it couldn’t be more up there without technically being a ceiling. Cards and jokes and pictures and big clocks and bitch citations and memories and it has only just begun.

 

Now pardon me while my pantsless camera operator and I get our client video creation on using our makeshift green screen while our legitimato bad boy is in the hands of a dreamy UPS delivery man. The penguin will not be harmed in the filming of this short. There is simply no place for teetering penguins in Arizona real estate.

How do you work?

 

*Bonus: I usually do not sport this “bra” women who leave the confines of their homes speak about so lowly. You’re welcome for that post-baby, pancake boob mental picture.

**It’s not really work if what you do is sorta, kinda, like your mistress and stuff.