Happy Anniversary

Today is my third anniversary of being married. The requisite roses arrived at work, in my favorite color, and the appropriately romantic cards were exchanged, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm spending the night alone with my son, and I'm not particularly happy about it.

I try very hard to be the sort of equal partner in this relationship that doesn't play tit for tat on having time to yourself. I can think of 2 times where I've said "I'd really rather you don't go out on this night." in a total of 8 years together. I don't crash the boys nights out. When I ask to do things on my own, hubby rarely says no, but he makes the experience of me being away and him being in charge so nerve-wracking that it's often easier to just not try.

For the most part, my "me-time" is accomplished by taking time away from work to do things, like get my hair done or have a manicure. It also includes a day every 5 weeks sedated while I get IV medication to try and control the arthritis. I've booked myself for 3 cooking classes, one each month for the coming three months, 2 hours away from the house during prime-time play time. The other option is that I wait until I've "done my chores" at the house, and got the boy to bed before I go out to meet another mom or two for a drink.

When I make plans for myself, I think it all through, I look at the calendar, I look at how long it's been since the last time I had a night out, and then I ask. "Sweetie, how would you feel about me going to a barbershop chorus guest night next Monday for a few hours?" Or "the community building meeting for our daycare is meeting next Wednesday, can you feed Z and get him down to bed?" I don't assume the answer will be yes.

When my hubby wants to make plans for himself, he send a calendar invite on iCloud. No could you? No would you mind? It's just a statement of what he's doing and I can figure out the details.

Last week on Monday, I got an appointment demand for Tuesday night out drinking with the guys, Wednesday night gaming and another one for the 19th gaming. Now, i checked. Our wedding anniversary is on the shared calendar, right there on the 19th, right where it's supposed to be.

Over dinner he starts talking about how they finally got that second game scheduled, and about how he's looking forward to playing this game with the guys. I told him, "listen, I need to talk to you about that. I'm pretty hurt that you would schedule something like this, something you do alone, on our wedding anniversary."

"Oh shit, yeah, I forgot about that. I know it's some time in September. So are you saying I shouldn't game? It took forever to get this on everyone's calendar..."

A giant part of me wanted to say "that is exactly what I'm saying, thank you very much.", but instead I said "it's ok, we can do something for our anniversary on Friday instead." And pretended like it was no big deal.

Last week, I decided to treat myself, and I put an emergency call into our sitter. "It doesn't matter if it's Tuesday or Wednesday, I just need you to take Z for a few hours. I need a break," I told her. She proposed Tuesday, and I reached out to a friend to see if she could get together last minute. We had a fine dinner, and I drank off some of my resentment, while we talked about how relationships are the hardest work you will ever have to do. It just pisses me off that I accommodate me-time mandate after me-time mandate, while I dance around, asking permission and eventually paying someone to take care of my son.

For my anniversary, I celebrated with my son at Red Robin. We sang "Ram-Sam-Sam" and "Goin to Boston" and a silly song that includes the words "ding dong ding dong", which he pronounces "Ning Nong, Ning, nong". We looked at the sky and talked about how the stars are always there, it's just sometimes the light makes it too bright to see them. Then we went inside, read "Guess How Much I Love You?", turned on the star projection turtle and looked at the green moon on the ceiling. I sang him the song I made up for him about how much the stars and moon love him, and he nodded off to sleep with only one "mama, mo meewk, pweeeease" (mama more milk, please) request.

Also, for my anniversary, I did not empty the dishwasher, I did not fold, wash or dry any laundry, I did not unpack the box of amazon mom delivery items (diapers, wipes, diaper genie refills). Instead I upgraded the OS on my phone and iPad, and played with new features and went to bed early. I hope to be asleep and sprawled in the middle of the bed before my hubby gets home.

I'm looking forward to a night out with him on Friday, but I sure wish there was an "I'm sorry, I'll cancel my thing" as part of the conversation that lead up to this new plan.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad. Fueled by coffee.

The Broken Parts

I've alluded to this a couple of times, but I do my best writing, which is to say my most consistent frequency of writing, when I'm involved in a group setting, with writing prompts and assignments and the knowledge that for this period of time, there are at least 10 people reading, because that's part of their assignment and commitment to the class.  Today is the first day of the new session.

I'm holding down a table at "Conference Room U", the coffee shop across the street from the office, enjoying what is, in my opinion, the best latte in town with my laptop and 55 minutes to be no one other than "The Writer".  "The Producer" can wait until after this block of time.  "The Mommy" can wait a few hours.  For now, I will be the one that writes.

Today's prompt, from Mark Nepo's Facing the Lion, Being the Lion:

"It is important to realize that Ganesh is a god of embodied wisdom who knows the life obstacles of which he is a guardian. He is a god because he has lived through all the world has to offer, not because he transcends it. Often, he holds in his right hand one of his own tusks, which he broke off in a fit of anger and hurled at the moon. But the moon spit it back, and he carries that broken piece of himself as a reminder of the earthly journey that no one can escape."

Start us off easy, why don't you, Nerissa?!?!?  Good lord, I need to be "the writer" AND "face the broken parts"?!?!?

Me and Paul, 2005

A friend of mine took his own life a few weeks ago.  It absolutely devastated me.  We had worked together, and became incredibly close.  We shared the same birthday, we always stood up for each other.  He was my sounding board when things got rough, and I was the same for him.  He loved my little boy, and often referred to him as "the spud".  He believed in me, and I believed in him, despite what other people said.  He lived his life in a bit of a spotlight.  If you did a web search for that public person, you'd see a lot of words to describe him: Hot-headed, outspoken, substance abuse problems, wildly talented, womanizing, misogynistic and I think there was a certain part of him that was so used to those descriptions that he let himself be that person.  I also think there were demons inside him that drove him to not trust in the good parts, and that let his amazing heart, loyalty to friends, sense of humor, and talent be pushed down into the darkness.  And the darkness lied to him, and convinced him that there was no place in the world for him, and now he's gone.

I've been trying to make sense of it, talking to mutual friends, and trying to reconcile the person that I spoke with a few days before he died with someone so desperate to end the pain that he hung himself to find some peace.

In talking with one friend, the subject of the public mask came up.  We talked about how our friend was not really all those things that the Internet says, at least, not inside. But the mask was more comfortable and easier to maintain than it was to let the pain show.  This mutual friend told me "But, then, you know more about living behind a mask than most."

I had to let that sink in, I had to let it roll around in my head and in my heart for a little while before I could accept that he was absolutely right.  I have masks for different occasions, because the person underneath is hurting and raw and far too tender to trust the general populous to treat me kindly.  In an argument a few weeks ago, my husband snarled something about me being "little miss can-do, who never says what she really feels".

It's hard work, being broken.  We all have our personal tusks that we carry in our right hands.  I think the trick is being able to lay it down long enough to hold the ones who love us close and to let that love encompass and balm the hurting spots.

It's no small secret that the Nields music has been the soundtrack to my life, since I first started listening in 1996.  At least once a day, I sing a little bit of one of their songs, as an example of what I'm feeling at that moment.  I've loved each album for it's own reasons, but "The Full Catastrophe" has taken it to a new level for me.  "Your House Is Strong" has become my anthem.  I sing it to my son, I reassure myself with it.

"Our house is strong, and so are you
It's the broken parts that let the light shine through".

I don't know if what's broken can be fixed.  But I believe I can be strong and honest and true, and I want to be the sort of person that will not make excuses for the pain and the darkness.  It is a part of me, a part of this journey, the challenge is in letting my true face show.

Last season, on "Still an Adult".....

It's been far too long since the last post.  I could give 100 reasons why, and they'd all boil down to the same basic excuse.  I haven't made the time for it and I've been struggling in pretty much every area of my life.

Since 'last season', I:

• Fractured my left ankle. Again.  While breaking my ankle, I also ripped a tendon away from the attach point and am waiting for scheduling of an MRI to figure out exactly how bad the damage seems to be.  This was 10 weeks ago and it's still unstable and painful daily.
• Sprained my right ankle.  Again.  I ended up just sitting down and crying for a while after that one.
• Survived a round of huge layoffs at work.  Scope of work has changed drastically, and there is a general sense of jumpiness around the building - we all seem to be waiting for the other shoe to fall.
• Lost a very dear friend to suicide.  Depression is a horrible, LYING disease that allows our personal demons to get the best of us.  I miss him, every day.
• Had what was probably the best series of time with my Dad that I can remember in my adult life.  Kids don't fix things, but having a common interest that is a constant source of amusement is a pretty great equalizer.
• Had my uterus try to kill me, twice.  Popular medical opinion seems to be a combination of cysts, early menopause, and possibly the replacement IUD.  Two months ago, I landed in the ER, thinking I was having a miscarriage because of the amount of bleeding and pain.  GYN appointment next week where we "discuss options".  In the meantime, I'm seriously anemic and running on fumes.
• Realized that marriage is hard fucking work. (I knew this already).  Hubby and I have been at each other's throats constantly; arguing, resentful, frustrated and just not communicating.  There are days where I refuse to give up, because, well, I refuse to give up.  And then there are the days where I seriously question what I'm trying to save.
• My son is the most amazing person I've ever met.  He's learning new words every day, and has SUCH a personality.  It is an honor to be sharing his life.
• I lost my mind a little and had my hair highlighted with pink and purple.  Atomic pink and Pimpin' Purple, to be exact.
• I reluctantly agreed to speak on a panel at a "women in games" focused industry event.  It went a lot better than I'd anticipated, and I didn't throw up before speaking.  Win!

I keep asking myself the same question - "Why do I write? What do I hope to achieve?" and the answer is always the same.  I'm lonely.  I'm hungry to have a voice that is heard outside of singing the ABC's to my son.  I want to have a tribe.  I want to have a conversation.  But the responsibility for STARTING the conversation falls on me.  I've decided to expand the distribution of new post notification to a wider (but controlled) audience.  I nominally keep this blog anonymous, as I don't want to turn up on search results talking about things like work, abuse, frustration, or depression.

Thanks for reading, and welcome to the "new season", which is a new commitment for more frequent posts and honest conversations with myself, and hopefully with you, as well.

God save me from nights like this.

We are making no forward progress in sleep training our child. In fact, I think we're making backwards progress. On the once a quarter nights where I go out with a girlfirend, I get the text messages that ask things like "Is the bubble bath safe for him to drink?" and "what if he gets some of the lotion in his mouth?" I also get questions about the proper order of sanitary additions. Do you add the Desitin before or AFTER the powder?, with the following second guessing "are you sure this stuff is safe for babies" thrown in randomly for good measure. If my child is asleep at all when I get home, it's never in a position he normally sleeps in, or in a space where he normally sleeps. I found him standing on his feet, bent over double on the ottoman, sound asleep one night. The TV was on full blast, and he was snoring away. There was the evening he pulled the towel off the towel rack and made himself a bed on the bathroom floor.


Worse than finding him asleep in weird positions is finding him NOT asleep at all, and hours pst his bedtime. He's lying on the bed, sobbing, with the occasional primal scream for good measure. He's covered in snot, all hot and sweaty, and completely inconsolable. I have to pull out the big guns for these instances. I warm up the full repertoire of lullabye songs.... I sing him "Easy People", "In the Hush Before the Heartbreak", "The River Shall Rise", "Baby Mine", "Blackbird", "The Tennessee Waltz", "The Rainbow Connection", "The Wurlitzer Prize", "The Long Day is Over", and even the awful song my mom sang me about a dying child "Put My Little Shoes Away". I sing them over and over - my personal best was A 5 time repeat of the full rep before he sacked out.

Tonight is measuring on par with a night where I was not here to put him to bed, except I was. Last night was equally bad, with a slight deviation, Daddy got home before BabyBoy was soundly asleep. He sat straight up, punched me in the cheek bone and said "NO. DAAAAH-DEEEE". It took nearly two ours of squirming, singing and crying last night.

Tonight is shaping up the same - hubby's upstairs, delaying the inevitable where he enters my circle of hell that is playing the sound track of a screaming baby that I don't know how to help. In the meantime, I'm settling down for round 3 of the Tennessee Waltz.

I'm about ready to bundle him in the car for the 17 mile lap I used to take with him when he was a constantly crying baby with gastric reflux. At least he sleeps in the car.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad. Fueled by coffee.

Location:5th circle of hell, aka beside the crib

Free to a Good Home....

It's been one of the strangest times in my career, since I started in the games industry in 1999.  I've always been a hot commodity, the one that gets high profile projects, because I can be trusted to get it done, keep the right people in the loop, and to say "NO" when it's needed.  I typically have a backlog of things to do, just waiting for me to have enough time to do them.

 

Part of the weirdness has been around a reorganization from one big happy studio family with a pool of people and managers that are responsible for specific disciplines (Programmers, Artists, Producers, Designers, QA) to silo'd franchise groups, where the management is responsible for building cross-functional teams that encompass all disciplines.  Those managers still report in to the same higher structure, but from a peon's perspective, it sure doesn't seem like they are talking to each other that much.

 

I love being busy.  I love having multiple projects on the burners at once.  I love feeling like I am an integral part of a healthy, functioning team.  Right now, I'm helping out on special projects, and I have one game that is drawing to a close as my work.  The conversations around "What's next" have been going on since March, and it's starting to get to me, mentally.

 

I wrote a sales pitch to send around to the management team and decided it tells enough of a story of what I do, that I'd share it here.  (sanitized company name and project name)  It's mind-blowing to me that I have to sell myself this hard at a company I already work at.... but at the same time, sometimes it's nice to revisit what I believe makes me tick.
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Hi All:

 

Have you recently had a situation where you’ve thought to yourself “it would be so great if we could only do xyz on this project, but WHO WILL MANAGE IT?”  Do you have a short or long term need for a project manager with a ‘take-no-prisoners’ attitude, and a commitment to details?  Are you working on integration of a parent company (or partner) brand, and you just wish there was someone on your team with a long history of navigating the murky waters of approvals, integration, and last-minute changes?  Is the majority of your time spent on the big-picture with no time left for the day-to-day work of monitoring the pulse of your project? Are you at that point where it’s time to ship it and you need a leader who knows how to motivate, lead from the center of the action, and takes pride in getting it done?

HAVE I GOT AN ANSWER FOR YOU!  That’s right, it’s ME!

As projects draw to a close, and changes are happening in the individual franchises, I wanted to reach out and see if there are areas where I can help YOU with the needs of the individual projects for our company.   No job is too small, no job is too tall.  



I am:

• 

  (Not an actual Zombie)

  A people-focused project manager with a love for making games.   
• Passionate about working with a team to create AWESOME products, while sustaining a pace and quality of life that supports the company's core values.
• Not afraid to get my hands dirty in the trenches.   
• A voracious consumer of casual games content.
• In possession of the following super powers: directness, common sense, and an uncanny ability to get sh*t done.

My satisfaction comes from helping a team see projects through to completion, and helping their creative dreams make it out to the big world.  I have extensive experience in making branded products, with a significant portion of my career invested in shipping Hasbro branded projects, as well as creating adver-games for companies like Unilever, Chrysler, and Visa.   I’ve also worked with Warner Brothers, DreamWorks, Nickelodeon, HIT Entertainment, Johnny Wright Productions (*N’SYNC), Horn Abbott, and Mattel to deliver interactive products that are true to their respective brands.  Between time in QA and time as a producer, I’ve been directly responsible for 40 projects, with credits in over 100 games

Here at our company,  I’m currently working on finalizing some dangling details on the current iOS project.  Earlier this year my team shipped this iOS game, and I also managed the updates to our two most recognizable brands world-wide to have functioning product on the launch date of Lion OS last fall.  In the last 8 years as a producer,  I’ve managed internal teams, external teams, licensor approvals, multiple outsource resources, voice-over direction, done guerilla QA testing, written design documents, made a little (bad) art, and done a little programming.  Outside of work,  I’m a proud mom, wanna-be writer, musician, uuber-nerd, smack-dab in the middle of our target audience, and a controlled force of nature. 

Feel free to poke around my linkedin profile, read my recommendations and do not hesitate to let me know if you have needs for your franchises.   I’m not afraid to work hard, I own it when I make mistakes, and I never ask a team to do what I’m not willing to do myself.  I look forward to making YOUR life easier, while working together to make great products that we can all be proud of.

Best Regards –

Trivial Pursuits

As mentioned in a previous post, once upon a time, I produced a Trivial Pursuit game for PC, Xbox and PS2.  My brain holds onto a lot of bits of information from that project, I proof read, verified sources, and edited thousands of questions by the time the project was done.  One of the best parts of the project is that I sourced and directed a set of celebrities to read the questions for each category.

One of the celebrities we hired was John Cleese, and he opted to read the History category.  I sent the script off to his agent, and went into the recording session in Santa Barbara feeling prepared for the experience.  I should add, this is the FIRST voice recording session I ever directed.

As we were going through the session, John was getting more and more annoyed with the topics of the questions.  Apparently, John Cleese used to teach history at a prep school in England, and he felt that we were mis-representing current events as History.  He was right, it was America focused, and not deep history, our goal was to create a game where the average 30-40 year old American SHOULD know the answers to the questions.

Less than an hour into the session, he was visibly agitated, and I don't even remember the question that put him over the top.  All I know is this was my first ever voice recording session, and the talent looked at me through the glass, called me an 'illiterate con-artist' and stormed out of the studio.

I looked at my co-worker, and said "Oh shit.  What do I do now?"

"Get him back!  GO! GET HIM BACK!"

So, I went.  John was getting into his car and I started explaining what the goal of the game was, and how we arrived at the content that we did.  He said he understood that, but that I shouldn't call it 'history'.  I explained that we didn't actually CONTROL that nomenclature, Trivial Pursuit is a branded product, and the brand owners defined it, and that they had approved the content.  Finally, I closed it, like any good used car salesman would, I asked him the action question.

"What would it take to get you back behind the microphone, Mr. Cleese?" I asked, with my best, most charming smile.

"Five Thousand Dollars", he replied.

I quickly ran some budget numbers in my head, and thought of what my boss would say if I came back to tell him I'd lost John Cleese while standing outside the studio in downtown Santa Barbara.

"DONE.  Let's get back to work"

I went back into the studio, and sat behind the control board.  My hands were shaking and I was actually seeing little black spots.  I pretended to be pulling something out of my bag while I took a few deep breaths with my head down near my knees.  I realized I was actually going to throw up, so I spun my chair around and grabbed a garbage can.  I discreetly dry heaved into a garbage can while my co-worker and the studio rep looked on.  Then I wiped my mouth, grabbed my water, took a deep drink and spun back around.

"Alright, John.  Are you ready to get started?" I asked through the communication system.

We finished out the day, I got what I needed, and I put a call into my legal group to amend the contract to include an additional $5,000 talent fee.  The next day I was driving down to San Diego for a lunch date with a friend.  My cell phone rang, and I answered it.  It was John Cleese.

"Hello, I wanted to talk to you for a moment.  I believe I owe you an apology.  My wife and I were drinking some wine last night, and she reminded me that it's called 'trivial pursuit', not 'important pursuit'.  I shouldn't have called you names and stormed out, that was unprofessional of me."

I reassured him that I understood his frustration, and very much appreciated the follow up call.  Then he got to what, I believe, was the REAL reason for the call.

"I was wondering, can you treat the additional money as 'expert consultation' or something like that?  I'd rather not pay my agent fees on the additional money." He was very matter-of-fact about the request, and I am such a people-pleaser-person that I really wanted to be able to honor his request.

"I'm so sorry, John.  I can't do that.  I've already had my legal amend the contract and it went out to your agent this morning."  I really was sorry, I wanted him to continue acting like he liked me!

"Well then," he replied, curtly.  "Very well.  Goodbye."


One of my first bosses in the industry once told me this bit of wisdom.  "We make games.  No one dies.  You can't eat your liver over it."

As I've been struggling with getting my next project lined up, and dealing with self-esteem issues around feeling unwanted because I haven't figured out where I can best be effective at my job, (not to mention my insecurities about motherhood) I am reminding myself that creating entertainment is truly a trivial pursuit.  The important stuff is outside of these walls, just there waiting for me.

Finding my voice. The story of the Armadillo

I am writing with a wonderful group of writers via tele-class once a week (Hi writers!)  We had a homework assignment last week, and I've decided to incorporate that assignment with tonight's post.  The week is shaping up to be a little nutty, and I need to take advantage of the time that's available to me right now.

My assignment:

I'd like everyone to write a short piece, either as a post or just an email to the group. Think of one small piece of information you'd like to share with the world, one tiny insight. Then, in a paragraph (maybe 2 if need be) with clarity, brevity, wit and your own best voice, deliver the piece of information. (This might be harder than it seems!)

Over the years, as I've got to know myself better, and to know my father better, I have learned that I have the soul of a storyteller, and that I came by it honestly from my Dad.  A few years ago, I had the privilege of working with a game development studio based in Santiago, Chile.  The travel was exhausting, I flew to South America from Seattle for one week of each month for a period of 13 months.  I narrowly missed riots and protests on the occasion of the hospitalization and death of Pinochet, and I watched the 2007 riots on the "Day of the Young Combatant" from my hotel room.

On one trip, my business associate, Tiburcio was telling me about his life growing up on a cattle farm in Argentina.  One of his favorite past-times was to chase armadillos, killing them for the shell, which could be used to make a bowl, or strung with strings to make an impromptu guitar.  Tiburcio spoke with heavily accented, but very good English.  He rarely used contractions and would sometimes pause to cull his memory for the correct word in English.  A small group had been drinking a fine organic red wine on a visit to the Colchagua Valley wine region when he told me this story.

"Armadillos, they run very fast, and they have the long.... CLAWS."  He made a gesture with his hands, curling fingers into cat claws.

"They live in holes, and if they get inside the hole and spread their claws, the only way to get them out is to stick your finger in their, how do you say it?"  The claws changed to a poking finger, jabbing in the air.  "Asshole.  Once you do that, they go 'whooop' and retract their claws and you can pull them out."

I interrupted.  "TIBURCIO! Armadillos carried LEPROSY from South America to North America and they can pass it to humans!  Plus, they have huge claws!  Why on EARTH would you stick your finger in it's ass?  You should use a stick or something!"

My boss interrupted me and said "How in the HELL do you know that about Armadillos?"

"I produced a Trivial Pursuit game with 5,000 new questions in 2001.  I am FULL of useless information," I replied.  "Back to the Armadillo.  Seriously, why not use a stick?"

Tiburcio looked at me, very earnestly, and said "It is very dangerous to run with a stick."

I opened my mouth for a retort.  Then I closed it again.  I opened it one more time and said, "I guess that's fair."

Sometimes, when things start to feel a little out of control, I just remind myself, "It is very dangerous to run with a stick."  Things could be worse, I could have my finger in an armadillos asshole.