Hello to all of my readers, a.k.a. my Frye Guys, which is what I’ve decided to call you for the moment. We’ll see if it sticks or not. I’m honored to have received the “Seven Things About Me” award, given to me by the lovely ladies over at Simply Om. Along with the warm & fuzzies of being recognized the award also comes with a loose set of requirements for its recipient, as follows:
1. Thank the blogger who nominated you.
2. Tell everyone seven things about yourself.
3. Choose other blogs that you think deserve the award, and post on their blog to let them know they’ve been nominated.
Number one is taken care of but I’ll do it again — thanks a bunch Simply Om! As for number two, the request for seven things has so little clarification that I don’t know where to start, so I’ve decided to simply ramble off anything about me that might be interesting, odd, quirky, or just random — basically the stuff most Frye Guys (sticking?) wouldn’t know about me. So here goes:
1. I can’t read a book without taking notes. Not only does this mean it takes me 20 minutes to read a page, but also that I’m a non-fiction junkie who doesn’t really reach for a book unless I can walk away with some cold hard knowledge in the end. Fiction novels? Sure I’ve enjoyed a few, but I end up just taking notes on the author’s writing style the whole time. Either I’m an over-analytical kill-joy, or I’m simply making up for my sieve of a memory — you decide (because I can’t).
2. One of my old jobs in New York was to drive a Hummer covered with skeletons around Manhattan for 8 hours a day. No joke! It was a promotional vehicle for the (now closed) Jekyll & Hyde restaurant on 6th avenue, and my only job was to cruise figure-eights through the city and be seen by as many eyeballs as possible. I learned to navigate that diesel-guzzling tank of a vehicle through the narrowest and most tricky spots the city could throw at me, but not before busting up the bumper of a taxi cab and hitting an NYPD officer with one of my huge side mirrors. Not the cop’s car, mind you — the cop himself. The only thing that kept me from soiling myself during the confrontational aftermath was the soothing groove of the Phil Collins cassette I had in the Hummer’s old school tape deck at the time. The cops let me go with a warning. They must have been Phil Guys.
3. If you look hard enough I can be found singing professionally on iTunes. That’s what I was doing in NYC in the first place, playing out my own version of the starving musician, or maybe one step up from that — let’s say “Dollar Menu musician”? I spent my nights as a busker in the subway singing my heart and brains out, the proof of which is also available somewhere out there on the interwebs. Playing music underground was actually the thing that would eventually lead me to a life in Paris, but that’s another story for another post. :)
4. I built a chandelier for the movie Sex & the City 2. Long after the Hummer nonsense I settled into a job as Production Manager for a well-known lighting designer. This meant I prepped and assembled each of her objects for various projects, including an enormous one in Barney’s on Fifth Avenue and this smaller one in Carrie and Mr. Big’s apartment. Don’t bother clicking the play button in the middle; it’s just part of the screen capture.
5. I once attended a private Sting concert with only one audience member — me! A friend of mine used to work as a set designer for Saturday Night Live. She knew I was a die-hard Sting fan, which prompted her to call one afternoon saying that if I could be at the NBC studios in an hour I could watch him rehearse for that night’s performance. She let me in, I quietly grabbed a seat in the unlit mezzanine seats, and I silently watched Sting perform two songs and then rehearse a skit he was acting in. It ranks as one of my life’s all-time coolest moments.
6. My legs look pretty good in shorts. But that’s not the reason I wear them in the summer — I just hate being hot. And that’s why I’ve accepted the reality that to Parisians I’ll always look like a hapless American tourist between the months of June and August. And maybe even the occasionally warm May to all you locals, so you’ll just have to deal with it. My goal isn’t to succumb to your pants-in-summer rule but rather hone my French accent so finely that when I open my mouth you feel embarrassed to have judged me. “Don’t like looking at these pasty white limbs, madame? Well listen to me roll this R, baby!” I’m sure this conversation will happen one day.
7. Final fun fact: I want to write about Paris for a living. There. I put it out there. I want my life and my job to be nothing but studying, experiencing, and sharing all the little parts of this amazing city. Not sure how, but I need to make this happen. My mother will be jazzed because she believes that things only happen once we vocalize and own them. Maybe this is the beginning of something special for me. Or maybe I just couldn’t think of anything else to say for number 7.
Ok, final piece of business: blogs that I enjoy and will be forwarding this award to. Enjoy!