Happy

...working in an ad agency is, as they say in Maine, different. I texted a friend who works in an ad agency in NYC and asked whether it's a heavy drinking culture there; she said yes, and basically, "See: Mad Men." The pace is swirly, the vibe is madcap. AOL was the Devil's Workshop; this may be the Devil's Playpen.

I guess I always reckoned ad agencies would be like this. Toys and quite hilarious tchotchkes everywhere. Today around 3pm someone hit a landmark on a booze account and every top shelf liquor was out and flowing freely, people at their desks with 4 fingers of scotch, G&Ts in the kitchen, tequila shots. There's a bottle with just a swig left of warm amber carribbean rum sitting at eye level on my cube wall - the sun shines through it - it's gorgeous. Even tho my desire for alcohol passed about 15 years ago I might actually move this bottle. It's too pretty. And too "almost-finished."

The pace is frenetic. I don't know how I feel about it. Having just come out of such a--as my friend Bill Gray said today--perfect storm. I think I can probably hack it, but I need to wind down, seriously. And the work is cool and will be satisfying if I can pace myself and be on-site at the agency the right amount of time. Tomorrow I'll work from home.

Maybe it's kharmic...this past month yearning for more connection, and now all day at work nonstop constant interaction buzz and connection...of a type. I didn't need frenetic nonstop connection. Just more than an occasional exacted inscrutable murmur. Now it's full volume.

Alas!

and some cool things...Everything atthe agency is wide open, so you can hear everything. Unlike Autodesk--also open seating, but which fluctuated between tomb silent and aggressive engineering pontifications and arguments--the din at the agency is continuous and agreeable. Conversations, even when shouted across vast spaces, don't pierce the ears. Something about people's tones here vs. Autodesk...not cutting, no gasping convulsive or derisive nerd laughter, generally merry jolly and funny, frivolous, and sometimes good-naturedly catty and snipey, but easy to tune out. 

So today this guy was writing a song. It started with what my boss accurately dubbed "a moody piano interlude," a piano riff, and over the course of the day he composed this beautiful interesting song adding percussion and tonal color, different instruments, and then--at the end of the day I was staying late, and so was the team he's on--he synced it up to the video for this commercial, and after hearing the piece coming together all day as I worked, was able to see the creation of an actual commercial -- stood by at the end and watched as they tweaked the arrangement of the song until it all meshed to fit the video. Had never seen anything like that. It was wonderfully creative.

And then...I was soooo tired. And couldn't get a cab home. Kept missing the bus. I would wait and wait, and then go into a store and buy pants, or try on boots

 or grab dinner to take home (got an amazing dinner), and the bus would come while I was doing that, and no cabs came and still no cabs...and I was very sad. Then this stretch limo pulls up across Market Street and this old black dude in a cap leans out his window "You wanta ride? Get in!"

So I do. I hop across Market Street and bop into the back of this leather cushioned behemoth. So it's me, and him and his little white dog Kip. And we're riding around, listening to John Lennon singing Revolution, and I shout up front "I don't have any money except credit cards and I really don't have enough dough to pay for a limosene(sp)"

And he says "Well, I could sure use some gas"

 So I say "Sure, I'll put some fuel in your tank!"

And we drive on, in the colorful warm San Francisco night. He takes me through parts of SF I don't know yet, and it was beautiful. Looking back upon downtown from gentle hills, the Bay twinkling, in the far distance off beyond the buildings, which were twinkling in their own right the way they do here. Even the sidewalks twinkle here. And the sun on water twinkles...in a way I've never seen elsewhere. So, eventually we get to the gas station. And I put $13 in his car which I think is fair--a bargain for me and he was happy. And just sat back in the comforting plush opulence of this car...and as we drove....I relaxed completely, for the first time in WEEKS, maybe longer. And as I breathed and relaxed further into the dark cushions, someone taking care of bringing me home safely, set to a good soundtrack and no worries, I just started falling in love again with San Francisco. The spark started flickering again--I'd recently taken my enthusiasm for SF and applied it somewhere it didn't belong. Since my 2nd day here, I'd been so filled with besottedness for SF that eventually I think I sought to have it embodied in a person, which naturally didn't work. Walking around in love abstractly with a city is an odd thing, but beautiful. So I return to that place of infatuation and innocence and wanting to know who San Francisco's 4th grade teacher was. And it's happy to connect back with me and welcome me inside.