Venue Found: Theater Off Jackson

I had a hunch the first time I ever saw a show in the upstairs Exhibition Hall at the Theater Off Jackson that I would be planning a wedding there.  It had so much to offer both of us: Mr. Fiance, an improv comedian, gets to get married on the stage downstairs.  For me, ever the Asia enthusiast, I get the former site of the Wing Luke Asian Museum.  I get some lanterns already hung up, and paint that match the color scheme I'm planning.  I get a dragon boat on the motherfucking wall.

Here's how it looks standing on the stage in the front looking back:

Then in the back corner, there's a patio area?  Except it's inside.  There will be so many, many lanterns here.

Dragon boat.

The front of the room.

Photosynth is some nifty iPhone app that Mr. Fiance has, and with it he took a panoramic shot of the Exhibition Hall, where we would have our reception.  Click here (you may have to download the viewer thingy).

We still have to discuss pricing and dates, but we're both thrilled about this space.

The Great Venue Hunt

I’m on the verge of oversaturating myself with wedding ideas.  Secretly, I’m thrilled that Mr. Fiance proposed when he did, because I have plenty of time to plan my attack on post-summer wedding sales.  When all the June brides have come back from their honeymoons and need to get rid of decorations and aqua-colored table linens, I will be there to reap the benefits at a fraction of the cost.

Nothing is solid on the decoration front for that very reason, and so today I shall discuss the Great Venue Hunt undertaken by Mr. Fiance and myself last weekend.  We made an appointment to visit one of our top two contenders, and decided on impromptu visits to some other locations just to see how we felt about them.

Venue the First: The Mercer Island Community & Event Center near Luther Burbank Park.  The views and amenities were pleasantly surprising, but overall we felt underwhelmed with the actual space that would be used for the reception.  It was essentially a gym, and would need serious camouflaging to fit MAH VISION™.  Plus, I’d have to haul ass up a hill in heels to get to the sprawling outdoor ceremony space, and I don’t trust them to mow the grass before the big day.  It would need curtains or drapery, a ton of decorations, and a golf cart turned into my own personal limousine.  No hard alcohol allowed, nothing can be tacked to the walls.  But it’s cheap, so this space will work only if nothing else does.

Venue the Second: We drove down to Georgetown Studios, a kickass crumbling brick building nestled in a small, flourishing neighborhood of restaurants and shops.  There was a street fair going on in the parking lot, and we loved the feel of the place.  We snuck inside to find a photo shoot in progress, and were informed by a photographer that the building is no longer allowed to be an event venue because it doesn’t meet seismic standards.  Indeed, it felt as if the whole building would collapse if a strong wind went by, and we left dejected.

Venue the Third: En route to the last place, we decided to swing by the Theater Off Jackson, which was our top choice.  We have an appointment to take a proper tour on Wednesday, but we tried our luck and managed to sneak in as a middle school play was letting out.  The theater downstairs is delightful, seats 140 people and would be awesome for a ceremony.  No one could let us in to the larger room upstairs, but it has blue walls and a Chinese dragon boat nailed to the wall – what’s not to love?  My only concern is that it won’t be large enough for the 100+ guest list we have drafted. 

Venue the Fourth: The lovely Edgewater Hotel sits on the Seattle waterfront, and for the sum of $95-$150 per person, you, too, can be married in this establishment.  We drove our ratty El Camino up to the front, got JUDGMENT STARES from other hotel patrons waiting on valet, realized it would cost $5 to park with validation, and left immediately without going inside.

I'm sure we'll think of some other places to check out, but I'm excited for the theater tour tomorrow and it's our super-duper top first choice if things work out.

The beginning of wedding ramblings

It has been an unholy amount of time since I last wrote... alas, life wasn't throwing much at me worthy of committing to the internet.  Work has been work.  Mr. Boyfriend and I adopted a 3-legged cat.  I went on a low-carb diet, and dreamt of buckets of cupcakes.

And then, approximately one week ago while we were at the beach in North Carolina for my friend's wedding, Mr. Boyfriend got down on one knee and pulled out a ring so out-of-this-world perfect I can still hardly believe I get to wear it.  He proposed at me, I said yes while sobbing like a bitch, and we are getting married.

I have relished the smiles, squeals, and congratulations from everyone this past week.  I was able to share the news first with childhood friends at the wedding in NC, and then with my parents who were down at the beach on Mother's Day.  My friends, coworkers and fellow drummers back in Seattle have been awesome -- I have an army of wedding magazines at my disposal, and I didn't have to pay for a single one.

I got a lot of advice about what Step the First should be when planning a wedding.  "Plan your honeymoon first," instructed the Best Man at the NC wedding, hungover on the day after festivities and drinking beer on the porch of the beach house that we all rented together.  "That way when your mother insists on inviting her hairdresser and you want to tell her to fuck herself, you can focus on the awesome trip you have coming up."

It's a fantastic sentiment, but as I am lacking the money to plan a honeymoon at the moment - not to speak of paying for a wedding, reception, dress, or even getting my cell phone payment in on time - I decided to put that on the back burner with all of my other ideas and focus on what seems most important to me:  When and Where?  The When is determined by the Where; if we get married in Seattle, summer's the only time for that, but if we choose North Carolina, late autumn would be best.  Or we could meet in the middle in EXOTIC IOWA or something (gross).

Mr. Fiance and I made a list of all the friends, family and assorted hoodlums with whom we wanted to share our special day, and one thing became apparent immediately: more of our people would have to travel to NC than to Seattle, and between our friends, his are younger, poorer and don't all have full-time jobs.  My people are a little more established and a little more able to make the trek.  My mother hasn't accepted it yet, but Seattle's where we're getting hitched.

Currently, approximately 7 days after the proposal, my focus has shifted to the more specific part of Where.  What delightfully unique corner of Seattle will play host to our nuptials?  I thought I would be overwhelmed with possibilities, but the reality is that it's hard to rent a space - just a space for sitting - for under $2,500.  And those are just the restaurants that can't really accommodate the hot billion guests I want to invite, and won't let me hang anything on the walls.  On the one hand are hotels, private clubs and golf courses, which are fully prepared to handle weddings but cost $texas, require you use their awful caterers, and sure as shit won't appreciate my Blockbuster DVD backer cards turned into handmade table place cards (ingenious).  At the other end, you can find affordable, really ugly shacks, complete with linoleum and a view of the parking lot.

I am not getting married in a fancy hotel or on a golf course.  The idea of having everything taken care of is very nice, and I am definitely high-maintenance enough to pull it off.  I deserve a classy gig, for lack of a better word.  But months of clicking through sites like Offbeat Bride and Don't Eat the Paste, not to mention attending Kyle's DIY, 50% handmade 50% Etsy-tastic wedding, has given me the confidence that I can create an event that reflects who I am beyond selecting white vs. silver linens.

Nor will I have a solely outdoor wedding.  I am not an outdoor girl.  I can appreciate the aesthetics of nature in a photo shoot, but Mr. Fiance had to bribe me into agreeing to go camping with him sometime, since my only experience with that involved sleeping in a puddle and pooping in a hole with poop.

No, my ideal venue will be some abomination cast out from the pages of Martha Stewart because the napkin rings don't match the hors d'ouevres, but the party will be fun, the space will be beautiful, and the overall hootenany will not soon be forgotten.

I've narrowed down a few places I want to visit, but that will have to wait for next time.

Making Xmas special on a budget

The chaos is finally over, and I can settle down and breathe a sigh of relief: after a crazy move-in and two long weeks too full of other engagements to unpack, the new apartment is finally in order. 

It's been stressing me out a lot.  Work is hard enough, but to come home looking for sanctuary and finding only boxes sitting in little piles has been draining.  Yesterday, finally, the bf was going to be gone all day and it was pouring buckets, so I used my distraction-free day to get OCD on my habitat.  There are no longer boxes in corners.  My stuff has been unpacked, and the bf's has been shoved under his desk (that's what he gets).  All laundry was washed, all clothes put away, and rather than lament my descent into distinctly un-feminist territory (I folded his underwear), I just feel a lot better.  I finally feel like I can relax in my own home.

He didn't get all of this for free, however.  I left a post-it on his side of the mirror with instructions about taking me out to dinner.  I feel like that's fair.

The holidays are upon us - we didn't get more cleaning done before yesterday because we were double-booked for holiday parties both nights this weekend - and we kept making noises about getting a tree, but now I don't think we will.  If we do, it will be small and go on top of a table or something.  It just wasn't in the cards.  I have resorted to my usual Xmas tactic, which worked really well and made the day nice for me when I was abroad: wrap everything.  Got gifts for people that you haven't mailed yet?  Put them under the tree.  Bought toothpaste for yourself?  Put it in a box, and put a bow on that box.  We ordered a bunch of stuff for the house on Amazon, and as those packages arrive, they are getting decorated and will be opened on Xmas even though we both know what they are.

We also won some movie tickets at my company's holiday party, and a whole hotel package at his company's holiday party, so those are going right in the stockings.  That way I don't feel bad about not being able to afford a super fantastic present for him.  It may be a waste of paper and time, but it'll make our first holiday in the new apartment seem a little more special.

Doctored jelly from a can

Will there ever be a Why You Should Quit Your Job Part 3?  Who knows?  I've been busy with working at the New Job, and I really like it, and I'm not sure I have the energy to think back to the old one right now.  Maybe later.

Seattle is in the grips of Snowpocalypse 2k10 and I've been home all day, packing for my upcoming move to the Eastside.  Moving In With the BF is also an event worth capital letters, but I'm concerned less with the emotions behind that and more with the sheer number of boxes crowding my current apartment.  It's not just the boxes of STUFF, it's the boxes of breakable/decorative mess that can't really go in the back of a U-Haul, lest it all shatter.  "It'll just go in the backseat of the car" is what I'm thinking about 10 boxes and several paintings and a samurai sword.  We'll see if it works out.

But talking about boxes is boring.  Instead, let me tell you about what unholiness I will be unleashing upon the BF's family for Thanksgiving.  I volunteered to bring fruit and veg (their dinner last year was lacking in these departments) in the form of cranberry sauce and green bean casserole.  The casserole is a family recipe full of cream of mushroom soup and french fried onions, but for the cranberry sauce, I wanted to get creative with it.

I decided to make a pear and cranberry sauce, figuring that would be Food Networky enough to impress but easy enough that it wouldn't severely interfere with my packing schedule.  I got most of the ingredients this past weekend, knowing that the snow would make grocery stores harder to get to, and today I set about making everything.  I chopped pears and boiled them with a bit of water and honey, plus cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and huge chunks of ginger for flavor.

However, instead of getting fresh or frozen cranberries, I got canned sauce.  Whoops.  So now I have honey-ginger-cinnamon-nutmeg-allspice-infused cranberry jelly.  Hot damn!  Nothing says classy like doctored food from a can.  I hope it tastes okay.

Off to watch Fargo with the Roommate and the Cat.

Why You Should Quit Your Job, Part 2: Deciding to quit is the worst part

Quitting your job is a huge pain in the ass.

I acknowledge that saying that is pretty selfish.  Thousands of people have lost their jobs.  They don't have the luxury of being able to choose whether or not they have income.  Many people can't find jobs.  Many people hate their jobs, but need to stay for the benefits, whatever those might be.

I'm not married.  I don't have kids.  I don't have a medical condition.  I don't have a mortgage.  I don't own a car, and so have no car payments, insurance, maintenance, gas, or parking to worry about.  When I make a life-altering decision, my meager life is the only one directly affected.

On the other hand, I hear about people who up and quit their jobs to change careers or take an "Eat Pray Love"-style romp around the globe, and that is because these people have money saved up.  For all the things I didn't have, I must include money.  I didn't have savings.  When I turned in my notice, I had about $300 in the bank and whatever my final paycheck was going to be on the way.  I may not have a car or a mortgage, but I still have to make rent, and pay my cell phone and student loans, and feed my cat (not to mention myself).  I had been fantasizing about leaving my job for over a year at that point, but I just couldn't save anything. 

Firstly, quitting your job is a pain in the ass because you have to be prepared for it mentally even if you aren't financially.  I can't tell you whether you should quit.  Everyone's got their own personal tolerance for frustrations in the workplace, and everyone's got reasons to stay.  I could lecture you about how, in my idealistic world with unicorns and cotton candy clouds, the reasons for staying at a job you hate are really just excuses, and you're the only thing holding yourself back, and blah blah blah.  I can only tell you that, for me, when my reasons started sounding like excuses and then the excuses just sounded hollow, I had some serious thinking to do.

With no savings lined up, I knew I would have to find a way to earn money somehow, any way that I could.  I've had friends looking for jobs in my field for months, even years, and I knew that it was unlikely I would find anything quickly.  And ya'll, the thought of taking some part-time job or some minimum-wage job was so disheartening.  It's like taking a step back when you've spent all this time and money on an education that is supposed to open doors for you.  What will it look like on a resume if I go from a full-time gig to working the register at McDonald's?  Will that adversely affect my job hunt in the future?  Will I have to get two or more part-time jobs, and then never really have time to myself?

If the goal of this is to make myself happy, isn't all this uncertainty and possible sucky existence going to make me very UNhappy?

The answer is: of course.  There's no golden solution in this situation.  Ever.  There's a whole lot of ifs, and a whole lot of maybes, and a whole lot of wondering how the hell you can make rent on minimum wage.  Maybe you can't find a job.  Maybe you can, but your boss is just as awful or whatever problems you had are still there.  Maybe you have to wear a uniform.  Maybe it's not at all what you expect.

You can't do this with expectations.  You can only do it with hope.  When I got to the point that I felt trapped, and I wasn't sleeping, and I wasn't myself, and I dreaded going to work every day, I looked my Job-Quittin' Fantasy in the eye and told it, "I can't realize you until I'm okay with the idea of waiting tables or working a cash register."

Mostly I was scared.  I was terrified of what would become of me and how I would make a living, but when I thought about it, I knew I wasn't going to end up in a gutter, begging for change and scraps.  Worst case scenario for me: I sell my belongings to buy a plane ticket move back across the country and live with my parents, but even that just seemed silly.  Second-worst case was having to stay on friends' couches or move in to my boyfriend's, and as much as the thought of being a mooch wounded my pride, I knew I could count on these people to support me in a difficult time, and I knew that I would be okay.  I wasn't going to die.  I wasn't going to starve.  I am a capable person, and I could make it work.

After coming to that glorious, empowering realization, I continued to be scared for a couple of weeks - mostly in the form of crying to my boyfriend and frantically applying to any job I found on Craigslist - because, hell, self-confidence alone sure don't pay the bills.  But the goal is happiness, and I knew I had to take a chance if I was going to find it.

Why You Should Quit Your Job, Part 1: The job sucks

Since moving to Seattle, this is the one topic I've most wanted to write about.  It's what I have thought about the most for the past six months, and it's not an easy thing to think about at all.

I moved to the area without a job in August of  2008, right as everything was going to shit.  No one really knew how bad things would get, but it was the beginning of the housing crisis (or at least the public's knowledge of it) and expensive government bailouts that would eventually do nothing.  That summer the country was on the brink of the recession, and I was only barely aware of that as I packed up my things to move to a city I had never been to before, full of confidence that I could find something in my field before my meager savings dried up.

I was lucky when not many were; after a month of searching, I had a job offer from a non-profit.  They had a part-time office manager, but wanted someone full-time, which sucked for her but was great for me.  The salary they offered was abhorrently low - I could have made the same working a cash register - but it was survivable, the job was kinda in my field, and the commute was easy.  I was also told to expect a significant raise after six months.

The first few months were a lot of fun.  I learned my duties with enthusiasm, became close with my coworkers and got to meet the movers and shakers of the community through the events that we held.  I got to know Seattle, made friends and became involved in volunteer groups and community organizations.  The company had been lacking an Executive Director, and soon we hired one.

My dissatisfaction with the job began from there.  There was never any health insurance, so I was struggling to afford an individual plan and quickly realized how expensive a cold can be when your yearly deductible is through the roof.  My 6-month raise was not anywhere near what I expected, and of course the person who hired me and promised a grand raise was gone.  We were losing money and there were other financial cutbacks.

With the new boss came changes, as well.  Suddenly I wasn't allowed to help out at evening or weekend events, leaving my coworker to handle them herself, because my boss wasn't 'comfortable' letting me take off a few hours later on to make up for it.  I was the member liaison, but I couldn't interact with them, and I was robbed of any networking opportunities.  Taking any time off, including sick time or vacation, became a hassle that ended in confrontation and a lecture in how we were supposed to be in the office 40 hours a week between the hours of 9 and 5, every single time.  My boss had no technical expertise, which I excelled at, and no event planning experience, which my coworker had been doing for two years, but he refused to listen to our opinions and made decisions that wasted a lot of time and money.  Anything he interpreted as a challenge to his authority was met with the simple statement: "You work for me."

The job became stifling.  Every day was a challenge, and my coworkers and I joked that our boss took turns picking on us.  I felt relieved on days when it was their turn and not mine.  I looked for jobs but it was 2009 and there were no jobs, at least not that I felt I was qualified for.  I wasn't an engineer or a lab tech or an attorney.  I didn't have any concrete skills that were in demand. 

Eventually, my coworker found another job and left.  The only other employee besides my boss had started working from home because her position required a lot of travel.  I was stuck in an office with just one other person, and this person decided that the solution to our budget problem was not to hire a replacement for my coworker, but to have me do both jobs.  I was offered a small raise in return for the expectation that my output would be the same as when two people had been responsible for the same tasks.

For a while, things were better.  I enjoyed the added responsibility, even if it had been given to me as an afterthought to the budget.  My relationship with my boss even seemed to improve - at least, I wasn't so angry all the time any more.  I wasn't as frustrated when he was his normal condescending self; I figured I was learning how better to deal with a difficult personality.  We had a slew of unpaid interns in the office helping us with necessary daily tasks, which is pretty inappropriate for a workplace but sure did ease my burden a bit.

Then, after about 6 months of this situation, with me handling the daily office functions, event planning, outreach, and anything that needed doing by something with a power button, we held a huge event that went well, and I didn't feel good about it at all.  All I could see was the things that weren't done or the things that went wrong, even though it had been a fine event.  I had interns making cold calls and handling registrations, and had been working long hours.  I hadn't been sleeping well, was fairly irritable all the time, and had developed a headache that never really went away.  I didn't feel any sort of accomplishment when it was over... I just felt tired.

What's more, I looked down the road at more months of working as hard as I was, and I thought about having to manage the biggest event of the year, four times as big as the one I had just put together, and I had this overwhelming sense of despair.  I knew I could do it - I can do anything - but I also knew I couldn't do it well.  No amount of interns was going to make my headache go away.

I also realized that the 'improved' relations with my boss weren't actually improved at all.  Things were still the same, but I just didn't care.  I had resigned myself to his inappropriate and unprofessional behavior, and life was a whole lot easier if I just didn't acknowledge the anger any more.  I had gotten used to it, and knew it would never change.  That, more than anything, made me feel pathetic. 

At that point, I knew I couldn't wait for the perfect job to come along and rescue me from my misery.  I had to take matters into my own hands.  So I quit my job.