One Book New Jersey 2009

Last year was the 5th year I've been asked to do the One Book New Jersey poster for NJLA. It's a pretty sweet gig and usually fun to work on. The site is up and the posters are printed and mailed and the image is posted on the website towards the bottom of that page.

I also did some flyers for this year's program. Those were interesting (and done in gratis) and came out pretty cool too.

I loved the Read To Me selection: Art by Patrick McDonnell. That's right--the Mutts guy! Who, by the way, is from NJ. It's an awesome picture book, and yes, while it's for children, I think it's one of my favorites. I really need to do my own picture book. Hmmm...

If you're looking for some reads, the OBNJ site also archives the past years selections. Some of the best were YA selections So Yesterday by Scott Westerfeld and Dunk by David Lubar. (I had the pleasure of meeting Lubar at a program he did for OBNJ 2005. He's an awesome guy. Friendly, down to earth, encouraging... He signed my copy of his book too but only after I signed his copy of my poster. Sick!)

You can find OBNJ merchandise at the Cafepress site. You can own a little piece of my artwork! I suggest the canvas bag to carry your stuff around and save the environment. Of course, a hoodie is always an option too!

Thursday morning laugh!

Hahahaha--love it:

Overheard in New York | Meet the Poster Children for Bike Helmets

"You have a very professional voice."

That's a comment I received today while on the phone with a patron. I do suppose it was a compliment. She proceeded to tell me that she used to do voice-over work, though she didn't say for what, so perhaps she was on to something.

Of course, maybe she was a little crazy. That happens sometimes. I never really considered myself to have an interesting or enjoyable voice. I don't even like to talk when setting up the message on my voicemail. I hate hearing myself. Perhaps there is irony in the fact that sometimes I can't seem to shut up.

Haha, but maybe I can do voice-over for some sort of annoying character in a commercial or something. Bet that would at least pay better!

Song of the day

Little Victories - Matt Nathanson

This time, I'll be sailing
No more bailing boats for me
I'll be out there on the sea
Just my confidence and me

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
But I'll learn to get by
On little victories

This time, I'll have no fear
I'll be standing strong and tall
Turn my back towards them all

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
And I'll learn to get by
On the little victories
And if the world decides to catch up with me
Still little victories

=)

Star Wars!

You just don't mess with Jersey

I came across this article from The Wall Street Journal on Digg before. It's a little long, but if you are from Jersey, it's worth the read. It helps explain why sometimes I'm the first to bash this state, but I will also fiercely defend it when necessary.

New Jersey Is an Epicenter of Artistic Talent - WSJ.com

Rock on, Jersey.

I love the smell of oil paint

I am a tool. I punish myself for things because I'm stupid. I love to paint. I'm not the best at it, but I love it.

So why don't I do it? Why do I punish myself?

I set up my crap-tastic easel tonight. Peeled open my palette. Dried dabs of paint from my last painting venture in Vermont 7 months ago looked up at me. Oil paint takes a long time to dry. And if it's thick enough, like some of it is on my palette, 7 months later is still good enough to peel back the dried layers and reach paint underneath.

I prepped the canvas a little. Just laying color down so I don't have a white ground to play on. The whole time smiling. I think it's the smell. It brings back memories fresh as the day they formed in my mind. It focuses the contentment and concentration and frustration that accompanied countless hours in the studio. It tickles the laughter from the family I found. It rips open the wounds I thought healed. It reminds me of the beach...

Facebook!

I still think it's evil. It's a scary stalking tool.

Granted, I'm trying to harness some of it's evil power for good and get some involvement for our upcoming Relay For Life event. But still, I don't know what's more disturbing to me: That someone would accept a random friend request from someone they don't know, that people put up so much personal information, or that I felt like a stalker trying to find people in the community to get involved.

It is funny, however, to see how many high school seniors list beer pong as an interest or hobby. Oh children...

Perhaps I don't understand. Do you really need to get in contact with that kid who pushed you on the playground in 2nd grade (Thank you, Jonathan)? Or that punk who mercilessly harassed you throughout those awkward middle school years (Ricardo, you moron, I do hope your pumping gas somewhere instead of in jail or dead).

I can see wanting to keep in touch with people and I see how much easier this makes it. But I don't think everyone needs or even wants to know what I'm thinking at all times (Of course, you could just ask me). And if you are just going to use the mailing feature of of Facebook, why can't you send an email to begin with? Am I old-fashioned? Is "e-mail" actually old-fashioned now?

Damn.

I admit I've been tempted and sometimes succumbed to the urge to see what my friends are doing. And who knows, maybe someday I'll have a change of heart. If I work up the gumption to move across the country where I'd be leaving everything behind, maybe then I'd yearn to be in touch with "everyone." Maybe then I'd want you all to know what I'm doing in a vain attempt to feel somehow connected.

For now though, I'd rather the dialogue. The rapid-fire bitching emails during work. The camaraderie over a few beers and some cheesy appetizers. Or just sitting there with the people I love around me.

Lame, Mikaroni, lame! Hahaha. Oh well. I never said I was cool.

Cannonball

"Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball"

I lost my keys...

on Tuesday morning. At the dentist's office of all places. Halfway through the cleaning, I felt my pocket in a panic and what do you know. Empty.

So naturally I got a little worried. Naturally I they weren't in my other pocket. Or my jacket pocket. Or in the snow or on the sidewalk to where I parked the car. Not even in the car or the ignition. And not on the way back into the office. Or the chair. Or on the way back to the car again.

I had a spare car key that I keep in my wallet, so I was thankful that I could actually leave. But c'mon now. Where the hell could they have gone?

It threw me off all day. Not to mention it wasn't a normal day to begin with. I was psyched for the inauguration, so for me to have any type of positive emotion on a Tuesday morning is unusual (Tuesdays are my least favorite day of the week... Like a friend that keeps reminding you about all your faults). I managed to calm myself down enough to watch Obama and feel good.

Then off to work. First day in a new building. Shouldn't have been an issue, but I was thrown for a loop. Gotta love working for the public.

Got home at 9, tired and drained. Gave up, went to bed. Before work Wednesday morning, went back to the office. To and fro and lo and behold, nothing.

Then I did something I didn't really expect to do. I have a tenuous relationship with religion. I wrote the keys off as gone. But then I said a little prayer and gave the problem over to God.

Ever heard that quote: "Every evening I turn my worries over to God. He's going to be up all night anyway." Well, I wasn't that messed up about it that I couldn't sleep. But what the hell, right?

Before I left work that night, I got a call. The dentist's office found my keys on a ledge inside the building while a patient was waiting for a ride home.