Amy Middleton Loves New York

Armed with a list of recommendations, I went to New Jersey today to meet with the marketing director of the companies where I’m freelancing. The list came as the result of working in their campaigns for a few weeks, updating URLs of poorly structured Ad Group after poorly structured Ad Group.

I expected my list to get shot down. It’s my experience that there’s a “it’s not ideal, but here’s why we do it like that” for every problem. And there was some of that, but the director was able to see the value in the solutions I was presenting. He agreed that what I had thought of was better, and I got to spend the entire day building out well-structured campaigns.

Today was a good day.

2 things:

1. People keep watching my cover letter slideshare! Yay! I realize that it’s not the most pretty or entertaining thing to watch, but somehow it’s at almost 700 views right now, which gives me confidence in the content (no one’s watching it for my slick use of a powerpoint template, that’s for sure). I decided if it hits 1,000 views, I’ll use it as a building block for a more engaging youtube video. More work for me, but who can resist the siren song of rediscovering the Flash learning curve?

2. Great article from 37signals on why a cover letter trumps a resume. Read it, then check out the killer cover letter submitted by their new hire Jason Zimdars. I weep.

Here is the best of my exhaustive search today: (ok not exhaustive. exhausting.)

The Basics- greywater.com
Enviro Water Boy - LA Times
Grey Water Mulch Pit - Permaculture.org
Laundry to Landscape (Drumless Laundry) - oasisdesign.net and The Greywater Guerillas

California does not consider sink/dishwasher water to be “grey”- and I’m not sure what the implications of that are. My guess is it counts as blackwater and can’t feed into a permitted system?

Given that California is not a particularly rainy area (thank goodness!), I’m very interested in finding ways to reclaim household water for gardening purposes.

This is more political than I usually get on a Sunday, but Shelly Roche does a great job here of explaining just what’s at risk with the latest “food safety” bills.
PS I know I’m posting a lot of videos lately. Mostly it’s because I hate reading what I write but still want to keep the site somewhat current.

I needed this.

i just threw out our compost
behind the building in an abandoned weed field
but it smells so bad
i’m so nervous everyone will smell it
and it will be traced to me and i’ll have to pay a fine.
does that happen?
is it against the law to throw out compost?
and is there any way to make harlem smell worse than it already does?

This is me. I’m the idiot kid who is trying to remember one thing, but on the way to get it, is distracted by a million others.

I was complaining about this to Seth, whose mention of law school made me want to go to law school. Of course, just this weekend, I’ve also wanted to pursue a career as a caricature artist, copywriter, urban farmer, analytics consultant, and author. I blame catching up on TED talks for some of those, but the point is, anytime I see someone involved in an amazing project, I want to be involved too.

Seth said that choosing one path at the exclusion of others can make it more valuable. He definitely has a point. Later I was catching up on Google Reader (I get so behind!) and a link from Yancy about dreams and blessings, and one from Jared Covington about the value of goals had me considering again how to decide what to pursue.

That great goals motivate is a given. But are great goals created– the product of worthy objectives, deliberation and desire? Or are they the low hanging fruits that immediately attract us and compel us to continue?

Being as easily distracted as I am, I tend to sort through all the attractive possibilities and decide which ones really make sense to pursue. But that seems counter-intuitive, especially in the face of the idea that if you’re not already taking action, it’s a bad goal. How do you decide?

Years ago I met an aspiring musician who didn’t listen to music because he wanted his sound to be unique. I can think of few better ways to guarantee mediocrity than to refuse to be inspired or participate in the conversation.

If you were to ask a struggling director whose films she most admired, and she shrugged and said she didn’t really watch movies, how successful would you predict she’ll be in her career? How about a web designer who doesn’t pay attention to web, or a journalist who is uninterested in current events? With many careers (especially in the arts), it’s easy to see that success requires personal investment.

I am surprised at how many people I talk to who are vaguely piecing together career paths around general interest, but not passion. They are unaware of what peers and pioneers are doing in their industry. They are not tuned in to the conversation, aren’t even fluent in the language of their craft, and somehow believe that nothing more is required of them for success.

I don’t mean to be rehashing Lisa Barone’s snarky explanation that it’s not the economy, it’s you (although I do agree with her on several points). Let me say, though, that THE WORLD DOES NOT OWE YOU A JOB. Even my mom can see the value of staying current in her industry, and her employment aspirations are rather old school. (Mom, if you read this, no disrespect.)

If there were ever a time to take personal inventory and build your own brand equity, it’s now. Who inspires you, and what are you doing to emulate them? Who do you read? (Mom, what does Jim Rothenberg have to say this week?) How do you get new information? How conversant are you in your field? How are you contributing to the conversation? What are you doing to be relevant?

I am honestly optimistic about the potential to contribute and find work, even in the current economy. Personal investment and passion are not just employment value-adds, they are the foundation for success. Don’t be afraid of inspiration. You can’t be inspiring if you’ve never been inspired.

Dear City of New York,

It breaks my heart to even think it, and it’s been a weepy weekend as I’ve considered exactly what this means, but I feel we need to break up.

This does not mean I don’t love you. For these many years, I have loved you as much as a girl can love a city, sometimes to questionable levels. And you, of course, have loved me back, giving me opportunity, independence, and experiences without which I wouldn’t be who I am today. I will miss you deeply, and I’m sickened by the pain I feel when I think of leaving. After nearly seven years together, surrounded by transience, I am seriously unprepared to say goodbye.

You are magic and energy and in overdrive even in your quietest moments. I don’t know how you do it, and my pace has quickened as I’ve run to match your gait. You, more than anywhere I’ve ever been, know how to fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run. I cannot fault you for that. But I’m no longer interested in going where you are going. More accurately, I’m losing interest in your treadmill marathons. All of this energy expended is not getting me where I want to be.

I don’t imagine this comes as a surprise to you. I’ve tried to break up with you before. I’ve threatened to leave, flirted with other cities, and had the occasional cross-coastal fling. I may have seemed unfaithful, but each time I’ve come running back, clinging to your dysfunctional, familiar patterns. Even this past winter when things were icy between us and all I did was plan my escape, my exasperation was no match for you and your list of why we are so good together. Everywhere I tried failed because it couldn’t measure up to you, faults notwithstanding. I could never move on because there was nowhere to move on with. But it had become clear that ultimately, my future would not be with you.

Please forgive me in this. I am only thinking of myself. May I remind you, though, that such has been the foundation of all your relationships, and is the only way we’ve survived together so long. You are one of the better things that has happened to me, and I know you will be fine without me. You will continue to charm and impress all who know you, and those who don’t know you will speak of you with envy and awe. You are brilliant and complicated and powerful and inspiring. You, of course, are New York.

In a TED talk given earlier this month, Ms. Fresco makes a compelling argument for “wonderbread” and its power to free us from agricultural labor. A few of her well-taken points:

• We’ve become very removed from what our bread really is.
• A fallacy comes from idealizing a past that we’ve forgotten about.
• Small scale (farmers markets) is a luxury solution for those who can afford it if we want to afford it.

While our preference for artisan bread may not rescue anyone in developing nations, I fail to see how our purchase of processed bread helps with such an initiative. Meanwhile, artisan bread is sold at a premium and generally involves no exploitation of persons or resources. I appreciate her greater vision of local energy-generating solutions. But the evangalism of white bread to a first world nation escapes me. Thoughts?