Part of my new year’s resolution (those are three dirty words, aren’t they??) this year is to start styling my hair at least a few times a week. Sean and I both work from home. Which in a lot of ways, is awesome. We get to spend a lot of time with each other and our dogs. But in a lot of ways, it can be really trying on both of us. I’m not convinced that couples are meant to spend THIS much time with each other.

But I digress. In regards to my hair resolution…Every morning, Sean wakes up with the alarm {early, might I add}, showers, dresses, has his coffee, watches 30 minutes of news and goes to his office for a solid 8-9 hour day of work. I, on the other hand, wake up whenever my body tells me the time is right (usually with cheetos stuck in my hair), and sluggishly start the day. I’ll meander out of bed, get a cup of coffee, brush my teeth, check my email…get another cup of coffee. At this point I usually start some sort of work–emailing clients back, etc. Typically, I shower around noonish. And my wet hair gets thrown in a messy bun after I put on another pair of pajamas or workout clothes. The wet bun was becoming my signature style–and let’s face it…a dripping pile of hair on top of your head is just not very cute.

So I decided to something about that. It doesn’t take long to blow dry quickly and then run a straightener through it–20 extra minutes. 15 if I wait until my hair air dries. It takes even less time to scrunch some mousse in my hair and fluff it around.  And I’ve always thought that as long as I was having a good hair day, I could wear anything, any amount of makeup or lack thereof and still be cute. So that’s been my goal. An extra 15-20 minutes of my day to be spent on my hair. A very vain resolution, I admit. But I feel more confident and on days that I’m working on writing my manuscript (and this is a very silly thing to admit, but here it goes…), I find that if I feel more put together–wearing clothes, hair done, a little mascara on–it’s easier for me to get inside of the brain of my character.

And so far so good. It’s been less than a month, I realize, but even still. I’ve been investing this time usually 4-5 days a week. Even if I put my hair in a ponytail or a bun–I just make sure it’s a styled ponytail or bun.

And what’s even better? Sean has taken notice of my effort and now he is making more of an effort to look good. Shaving more often, putting gel in his hair (which he is growing out, thank GOD!). It’s so much easier for boys, but still. I see it as a sign of respect that he appreciates me and vice versa.

Now if only I could get him to wear a nice polo shirt every now and then–I know my dad would be happier.

NYCC (New York Comic Con for those who aren’t fluent in Geek) was last weekend. I’ve had non-stop people staying here at my apartment for the past 3 weeks and I have one more coming this week. I love having guests. But NYCC is an intense weekend–and for those not prepared for it, it can be rough. Luckily, my brother and his good friend Adam knew full well what to expect and I think from their text messages that were ALL IN CAPITALS ALL WEEKEND LONG, that they had a great time.

That being said, we’ve all caught what I like to call the Comic Con Cold. It’s this nasty bug that Sean, me and all of our friends contract every year right after NYCC. So many people. So few of whom have showered. So many germs and mouth breathers and people touching and brushing against each other–it’s like a petri dish of germs in the Javits Center that weekend. And so–we’re all getting over our colds after a good two days of hacking up phlegm. FUN TIMES!

All in all, NYCC was fun. I’m beginning to get to know Sean’s fans and even remember names and faces (and colleagues) from years before (Hi Alex! Hi Dan! Hi George! Hi Trip! Hi Guy Who Toured with the Glenn Miller Band Whose Name I Can’t Remember!). And I have to admit, though I might be slightly biased, I think the people who like Sean’s work tend to be a pretty rad bunch. They’re the more edgy and thoughtful readers in my experience at least.

That being said, I’m gonna go slug down some Nyquil and get a good night’s sleep before my crazy weekend of photo shoots! Seriously, it’s a busy one.

After the gym is usually the time when the cravings start. My stomach rumbles and at that point, my body needs sugar. This is apparently normal, though each day it feels like the end of the world for me to NOTEATABROWNIE. I like to announce it to our house when I make a healthy choice. Usually–that consists of announcing it to my dogs because they’re the ones who listen.

Monday’s craving was particularly bad. Cravings + empty cupboards = cranky Colleen. I searched and searched for one tiny piece of chocolate or anything to satisfy my craving so that I could make it to dinner. All throughout my search, I’d call out my findings to Sean in the other room working.

“We have fruit! Fruit’s sweet…but not what I’m looking for exactly!”

A disinterested grunt was his response.

“We have protein bars! Those have sort of fake chocolate. Focolate!”

“Something you’ve named ‘focolate’ will satisfy you?”

Hm, noted.

At that point, I saw sitting in our cupboard–oatmeal. Normally, oatmeal is my least favorite thing EVER. EHHHHHVVVVEEEEEER. I think it’s pretty disgusting. But at this point, I was desperate. And I knew I could doctor it up so I barely tasted the oatmeal. I made it with soy milk, added a teaspoon of honey and fresh berries and lucky for me, it worked. It was good enough that it got me through until I could make a healthy dinner choice.

I stood in front of Sean’s office eating my oatmeal.

“I chose to eat oatmeal.”

He grunted again. This is his typical means of communication while drawing. I’ve gotten used to it. “Good for you,” he mumbled.

“It’s healthy.” I like to point out the obvious. I was looking for a pat on the back, a parade in honor of my healthy choice.

Instead, he tossed his brush in the ink to rinse and looked up at me. His lip curled back, always a sign that Sean has a sarcastic retort coming. “What do you want a cookie or something?”

I paused. “Yes. But I chose to eat oatmeal instead.”

I’m pretty sure we’ve been over this before, but–I hate exercising. I mean, I do it, but rather begrudgingly. Over the past 6-7 months, I’ve really started boosting up my work-outs. I mean, if I’m gonna half-ass it at the gym, why go at all? Getting motivated to get out my door is always the hardest part for me, so once I’m there, I should make it count.

Prior to 6-months ago I would do things like the elliptical machine and the bike (usually both while I was reading or knitting–clearly I wasn’t building up enough of a sweat if I was able to knit loop after loop flawlessly!). But, then I decided to start running. Every woman I had talked to who trimmed down said one thing: RUN! AND NOT JUST TOWARD THE ICE CREAM TRUCK. At first I started running outside because it was just as the weather was just turning and it was perfect. Then as a couple of months passed, the air became thicker with humidity and heat, and I decided the treadmill was just as good and it’s got AC. And a tv attached to it. And a built in fan. SOLD!

When I first started running, I could barely do 15 minutes without cramping. I stuck with it even though the cute girls in the expensive running gear would pass me with their iPods strapped to their arms, throwing smug looks at me huffing and puffing over their shoulders. And while now, I still don’t have the cute running clothes or the perfect ponytail that stays smooth and straight even while running, I can successfully run for 40 minutes and I fluctuate between a 10 and 11 minute mile.

I still hate exercise. I have had no major epiphanies about how much I love running, or the process, UGH–absolutely not. It’s miserable. I’m dripping sweat after and I’m sore ALLTHETIME. But, I see results. Not in the sense that ‘I’ve miraculously lost all this weight!’….in actuality, I’ve gained 15 pounds (most likely muscle, but I guess you never know).  Overall, I’ve just trimmed down. Things are tighter and my jiggly parts don’t jiggle nearly as much…which I guess could be a bad thing depending on what ya like.

The other important thing for me in establishing my routine was finding an alternative for those days that I was just too busy to get out to the gym. And…I’ve always rolled my eyes when people mention this video, but OHMYGOD were my legs sore after doing this. Jillian Michaels. Annoying? Yes. Slightly Terrifying? HELL YES. But there’s a reason I would never want to run into her in a dark alley–the woman is ripped. And she knows what she’s talking about. Her 30-Day Shred video is perfect for those days that I only have 20 minutes before having to run out the door to start my slew of errands and photoshoots.

Just one more note on this video–turn off the sound and put on your own music. I mean, what IS that? Why is the music so so so terrible in workout videos?

I ordered some client products as well as some sample products (which are SUPER exciting and I can’t wait to show you!) weeks ago. I’ve been tracking my package for about a week. It was supposed to be delivered on Thursday. I was home all afternoon, morning and evening. At 7:30 pm, it said they had attempted delivery. I checked my door…I checked my lobby–there was no yellow sticker telling me they were there. No one rang my bell. No one knocked. Ok….., maybe it was during the 2 minutes I was in the bathroom? Regardless, I gave them a pass. Friday rolls around. I’m refreshing the tracking page every 5 minutes. 7:39 rolls around and the same message comes up. “2nd Attempted Delivery.” At this point, I’m fuming. There was DEFINITELY no knock on the door. No doorbell rung. And for the second time, no little sticker notice left.

To be fair, usually our UPS guy is great. The only thing I can think of is that he is on vacation and some lazy moron has taken over. Or perhaps a demon has possessed his body and seeking revenge on all his deliveries BY NOT RINGING THEIR BELLS.

So, I call UPS. The woman on the phone apologizes and tells me that she guarantees my package will arrive by 10am Monday morning. GREAT! I say. I reschedule my meeting for the afternoon and this morning I hunkered down with my cup of coffee watching my UPS.com tracking number and refreshing every few minutes. They currently have 4 minutes to get me my package before my head explodes leaving brain fragments all over the wall.

3 minutes….

2 minutes….

1 MINUTE……

Ok, so my head didn’t explode. But, a little bit of snot did run down my nose–that’s pretty close. Besides, I saw on Mythbusters that spontaneous human combustion can’t actually happen. Off to chat with some customer service reps. AGAIN.

Krista and I have become really close in the past year or so. She is this amazingly beautiful, extremely smart, talented writer, producer and actress. And just as I thought she and I were destined to grab brunch every Sunday Sex and the City style–BAM! She hits me with the fact that she’s probably moving to LA. I say probably because I’m clinging to the hope that her plans might fall through.

Here are some of my favorite shots from her headshot session we did a couple of months ago. I know she’ll exceed in life wherever she lives–I only wish it could be closer to me. But that’s selfish, I guess. At least now, I have a reason to come visit LA!

Sean: What is this?

Me: It’s dinner.

Sean: This? Is dinner?

I glare at him through my narrowed eyes.

Me: Yes.

Sean: Ok. I require more of an explanation.

Me: It’s a frittata.

Sean: It looks like you screwed up an omelette.

Me: No. It’s a FRITTATA.

Sean takes a bite and chews slowly, swishing the eggs around in his mouth.

Sean: (long pause) You sure you didn’t just screw up an omelette…?

I just glare at him.

Sean: Ok, fine. It’s a good frittata. (another pause) Also–why are we eating eggs for dinner?

Me: Oh, just eat your messed up omelette and shut it.

People in New York envy weird things. For example, someone who has more than 600 square feet of apartment is living in luxury. Anyone with a backyard will no doubt have me showing up at their doorstep every weekend with a fold-out chair and tanning oil. And godforbid you have a rooftop pool, you better believe I’ll be moving in with you for the next month. Do you have a gym in your building? Well, that’s a guarantee that all you’ll see of me is the could of dust after I ran away.

Bottom line–it doesn’t take much make a New Yorker feel envy. My building’s super isn’t the best at keeping our building tidy. The floors of our lobby and elevator always seems a little grimy, our lobby plants never live longer than a couple of weeks and I swear our front lock has been broken since the day I moved in. But I love my apartment so much that none of these things tend to bother me. However, our garbage situation is, in a word, horrible. I never know where to throw garbage bags vs. paper recycling vs. glass and plastic recycling. Next to our building, you’ll just find a giant pile of bags and glass and boxes and paper.

I never thought in my life I would ever envy someone else’s garbage. But our neighbor’s super does such an amazing job at keeping their garbage clean, tidy and separated, that it makes our building look like a landfill next to it. The neighbor has trash cans clearly labeled for TRASH, PAPER and PLASTIC. The receptacles are separated to lessen any confusion. They always are lined with clean, not-over-flowing garbage bags and once a week, I see him out there bleaching the empty trash cans to eliminate germs.

Yesterday morning I had Bebop out for a walk and as I left my building, I saw my super outside doing his normal pre-trash day routine of separating the landfill that had built up around our building. It usually takes him most of the day to do from what I’ve seen in the past. I couldn’t help but think of him as I got my croissant and in an effort to improve his quality of life, I bought him one as well along with a coffee. I already felt better about our trash situation–I mean, of course a happy super will be more willing to keep our trash area tidy! I was certain that my gesture would single-handedly solve our trouble. The entire building would have to shower me with thank you gifts. As I walked up to my building, I saw no super. I just saw a trail of half-finished, half-separated garbage. I went down to our building’s basement and when the elevator doors opened, a rush of smoke puffed into my face. Not cigarette smoke–but THAT kind of smoke. I coughed and entered the cloud, calling out his name. Within moments, his wide red eyes appeared before me looking shaky and nervous.

“Here,” I said, “it looked like you could use some of this.” I handed him the croissant and coffee and he took it saying a quiet thank you.

It’s no wonder it takes him so long to separate the garbage–but then again, if that was my job to go through everyone’s trash and make sure they recycled every last bit, I’d probably have to get high before going to work, too.

The other day, Eliza asked me this question:

“If you could move anywhere, where would it be?”

Just as I was about to answer with something exotic–like SANTORINI or PLAYA DEL CARMEN or SINGAPORE or SAN FRANCISCO, I had a thought: This is Liza. What starts out as a hypothetical question could very well turn into a reality with the snap of a finger.

So I asked her…”Is this a hypothetical question…or something you’re starting to ask around about because you’re close to graduating?”

She thought for a moment. “I guess a little bit of both.”

I nodded. “In that case, Hoboken.”

I love shooting with my film cameras–namely the Holga and Hasselblad. The holga and hasselblad both shoot with 120 film (medium format negatives), but the look of the images are totally different. The holga is completely unpredictable and tends to have funky light leaks and very little ways of constructing the image. It’s sort of a “whatever happens happens” camera. The Hasselblad is much more particular–hard to focus, the lighting has to be metered just right and its hard to compose an image. Overall, it’s two completely different ways of photographing, both of which produce awesome photos making the extra effort totally worth the reward.

However, the one MAIN downside to this is that getting these images scanned in takes FOREVER. Like, think FOR.EV.ER. in the way the kid in The Sandlot says it. Over and over. FOOOOOOR.EEEEEEEEV.EEEEEEEEEER. And, not sure if you know this about me: I’m not a patient person.

Why is our sushi not here yet? (because I just hung up from ordering it). Why haven’t I burned 800 calories yet? (Because I’ve only been on the treadmill for 2 minutes). I also turn everything into a contest–but that’s a whole other issue.

So, basically if any task takes more than a few minutes, I get very impatient and it becomes a game to see how fast I can finish (without sacrificing quality, OF COURSE). Although, ok, when scanning these negatives, it takes SO LONG and is SO TEDIOUS, that I definitely don’t mind sacrificing quality a little. Mostly because I don’t print them from the digital scans–only prints come from the negative.  That being said–here are a couple of my favorites from the first few rolls:

Hasselblad:

Holga: