Jennifer Jeffrey, Writer & Editor

Doodling on the Pages of My Life

When I got the Pentagram 2008 Typography Calendar, I quickly realized that every month has to be torn off to expose the next. It seemed like a shame, because the pages are so beautiful - I didn't want to throw them away.  I intended to use them as wrapping paper, but then I kept noticing them, slumped in a neglected pile, and I thought: well, I could write on them.

So I did.

They've since become a kind of visual diary, a way to sift back through the prior month and map out the events + highlights of my days and weeks. I'm not a very good artist, to my deep dismay, so they resemble the random doodles of a bored child, but I like them.

Writing on the calendar pages feels kind of like my Iyengar yoga practice. Iyengar yoga is about moving slowly and deliberately, hugging muscles to bones and sinking into each pose with care. It's about observing the subtle responses of the body and mind in every second. Watching as hamstrings start to scream in Utthita Parvakonasana; watching as forearms begin to ache in Urdhva Dhanurasana; noticing the way the eyes dart to the clock on the wall, and the mind asks: when will this be over?

Writing on the pages conjures that same sense of deliberation and attention, of placing a magnifying glass over moments in my very recent past.  Of connecting more deeply with Here + Now, with this life, my life. Remembering a burst of laughter, or a shared confidence, or a fabulous cookie. Observing the way each hour spent with someone I care about is like a treasure; when they're all drawn out, they're like gems threaded together on a chain of days, and oh how they sparkle. Recognizing, over and over, how much goodness my life contains; how much abundance; how much beauty.

Noticing: happiness.

Here's a quote I'm writing on the April page:

Give up all other worlds except the one to which you belong. (David Whyte)

So.

Wise.

+  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +

Psst: read the rest of Whyte's gorgeous  poem here.  

That’s Me in the Corner, Singing Off Key

A thin piece of paper is sitting beside my keyboard. It’s about one inch wide, and four inches long.

It’s a ticket.

A concert ticket stamped with R.E.M. across the top.

I might have plucked the ticket out of its envelope and held it to my heart and jumped up and down like a thirteen-year old girl when it arrived. I might have whooped and screamed. I might have scared Petra silly. Then I might have opened up the envelope about ten times over the next hour just to make sure it was real.

Might have.

I guess it's kinda obvious that I'm excited?

It seems odd, at my age, to admit that I have a Favorite Band, but I do, and R.E.M. is It.

Years ago, while in college, I went through a dark time when I felt like the world was a very inhospitable place.  I was estranged from my family, and trying to figure out who I was, and if there was anywhere I belonged. Then one day my boyfriend, a wonderful human being, handed me Automatic For the People. I listened to “Everybody Hurts” and cried my head off.

"Everybody hurts," Michael crooned. "Everybody cries... so hold on... just hold on...." I pressed Rewind (remember cassette tapes?) and played it again. And again. And again. It didn’t make everything better, but somehow it made everything more bearable.  A weight lifted off of my heart; I could breathe.

Is it any wonder that Michael and the boys hold the Best, Always & Forever spots in my music pantheon?

(If you’d like to see a picture me during that time in my life, you’ll have to click through the jump. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but there was no way I could post this picture where anyone casually strolling through my blog could see it. They might be scarred for life, and then how would I feel?)

Random Photo Friday: Graffiti Truck

You might remember that I have a mild fascination with graffiti. Walking Petra all over the city, I've seen more than my share of spray can art and signatures scrawled in paint. A lot of it I don't like; some of it I love.

I like, but do not love, graffiti murals that cover entire walls. Many are decent, but not outstanding, so those go into the category of "meh." Simple signatures and other crude bits go into the "visual blight" column.

The sweet spot, to my eye, lies somewhere in the middle:  edgy and unpolished, with an arresting artistic composition.

That's what I like about today's photos: a van as canvas. A woman rises out of a sea of  blocky letters, swirling a skirt that seems to be made of sunbeams and wind currents.

I like.

Speaking of swirling: I've been whirling around the Bay all week, meeting with clients and spending more time in my car than I have in a long while. I'm not complaining - I secretly believe that I work with some of the most fabulous people anywhere (shh! don't tell!), but the result of all the going and meeting and note-scribbling is: no blogging.

*boo*

But I've got a couple of posts brewing, and once I get some work out of the way, I'll put them up.

In the meanwhile: soak up this gorgeous spring sunshine, and have a twirly-whirly, bubble-icious weekend.

Get Your Art On:

+ The SF MoMA Artists Gallery at Fort Mason is having their Annual Warehouse Sale. It's worth checking out, even if you just go to browse.

+ The Annie Leibovitz Exhibit at the Legion of Honor ends on the 25th. The celebrity shots are fun - who doesn't like to see Johnny Depp sprawled out on a bed  - but what bowled me over was the personal shots she included. Her tender, loving photos of her father's death and Susan Sontag's fight with cancer had me fighting back tears.

+ Remember when I wrote about Jen Beckman's 20x200 project? I received these pieces by Doug & Mark Starn this week - from an edition that sold out in less than 3 minutes. I happened to be sitting at my desk went the editions went live and was lucky enough to snag both. I did a happy dance when they arrived. Simply gorgeous, yes they are.

Where Are You Finding Inspiration Lately?

You Can Find Me in the Dictionary

In the category of "Why didn't I think of this?" is the story of two dudes from the University of Ulster-Belfast who had the brilliant idea of creating an online database of the Oxford English Dictionary and allowing people to buy a word.

The Big Word Project is the result of Paddy + Lee's efforts - a site where you can stake a claim on a word. Any word in the dictionary can be yours for just a buck a letter.

Warning: if you have a word obsession, DON'T GO.

Minutes and hours will slip by as you discover that idiot is linked to this Wikipedia page, while nerd goes to the site of very talented web designer Jenna Roddy (check out her awesome work on Fly & The Great Emotion). You'll find that orgasm goes to BBC Focus, a science and technology monthly, and that return goes to a site created by the Auxilary Markings Club, which tracks esoteric stamps on returned mail.

You'll also find lots of junky links and spam; it's easy enough to avoid those by mousing over the word and looking at the URL so you don't waste time clicking around.

Of course I had to have my own word. A word is the ultimate accessory for a writer, don't you think? I'm Jennifer, and you can find me in the dictionary under X. Slick.

But "the" word, like the perfect shade of lip gloss or a pair of jeans that flatters all the right places, is far more difficult to find than it seems: writer is taken. As is copywriter, by a guy from the UK with a great portfolio. Editor has also been snapped up, but I wasn't too disappointed, because that word is sooo boring.

What is "the one" word that best defines what I do? I tried imagine; it was taken. As was create; ditto for storyteller.

I finally came up with communicator.

Bing! The first line of my resume says: I'm passionate about communication, and I am. At a dinner party a few weeks ago, someone asked me if I felt like it was my duty to "elevate" the dialogue of marketing by using big words. I told him that no, I felt like it was my duty to get the message across by using humor, wit and story, and that I like simple language the best because more people can understand it. He wasn't impressed. Fine.

So I'm a communicator. But: it isn't perfect - I mean, it's not very exciting, right? It's kind of mechanical sounding. It conjures up a vision of a drone behind a keyboard. How-can-the-communicator-help-you-today.

My brain is itching to find a better word, but I can't spend any more time on the Big Word site or I'll never get any work done. The communicator must return to communicating. Ergh, I'm tired of it already.

LINKS:

+ Wired magazine covers the Big Word Project (and notes that Anil Dash is the word "purple."  Hee.)

+ Check the Big Word blog for some fun word play

Hey baby, what's your word?

Blue Friday

Maybe because I'm a Pisces and fond of all things water-related, or maybe because my father's eyes are a dazzling shade of topaz, or maybe because I'm easily mesmerized by a spring sky, or maybe FOR NO REASON AT ALL, the color blue makes me twitterpated.

My first car was blue. My second car was blue. My third and fourth cars? Both blue.

I don't drive a blue car any longer, having finally come to my senses, but my eyes are still drawn to colors in the 210°-270° range of the color wheel.

It's Blue Friday! Rejoice.

Blue Links:

+ Shades of blue from the walls of Vincent Van Gogh's room

+ Oh, to be a blue balloon drifting across the sky 

+ The New Yorker wrote about people who dress only in one color.  The Blue Girl: woah. 

Photos Above:

+ A blue door in Acapulco, Mexico

+ Wave your hand in the air if you love Hog Island Oysters

+ A blue chair on my parent's deck

+ A box of blue plastic balls used to create the fabulously silly tree at Cornerstone Gardens

From Marcy Playground's "Opium":

Blue like water

Blue like heaven is all of the time

I'm all right

I'm just gagging on all the all right

Happy Weekend. Don't be blue.

Pink + Red Thursday

For Pink + Red Thursday, I decided to forgo the beauty shots I had lined up for some of the more neglected snaps in my iPhoto library.

A dew-spangled magnolia flower.

A muddy Radio Flyer in my mother's garden.

An aggressively humorous sign on a garbage can in New York that offers this choice nugget: THOSE THAT DO NOT VIOLATE OR DUMP HERE SHALL BE BLESSED WITH GOOD LUCK. Amen.

Pink + Red Links:

+ Our favorite Sartorialist discovers pink sneakers in Paris.

+ A photographer on Etsy captures a red umbrella.

+ The marvelous Maryam in Morocco drinks red wine in the pink desert.

And a quote from Jim Carrey's character in The Mask: (from the scene in Landfill Park, where he's leaping over park benches to chase after his love interest, and pulling all sorts of shenanigans, including plucking a red rose out of thin air and holding it between his teeth. I LOVE THAT MAN. Call me juvenile if you must.)

"My love is like a red, red rose...

And I am...

A little thorny."

Pink + Red Thursday is a good day for a fat slice of rhubarb pie.