A

Ani DiFranco
A friend of mine recently wrote a review of a Patty Griffin performance that we saw together, and made a comment about how Patty's lyrics have meant so much to her, have often felt like her own thoughts and feelings.  I feel the same way about songs that Ani DiFranco has written.  While I do have many life experiences that parallel Ani's, I still find it eerie that her words so often describe exactly something I have felt, or am feeling.  I suppose this is what makes her a folk singer, and not a pop singer.  There is something about folk music that really taps in to the collective experience of a generation, and articulates it.

Apple
I've been working at Apple, Inc. (formerly Apple Computer) for 9.5 years.  In that time, I've been a tester, a manager of a testing team, a project manager, and a manager of a project management team.  4 roles, though the focus of each position shifted about once a year so that in the end, I actually feel as if I've had something like 9 different jobs.  This is the only tech company I've ever worked for, the only one I've ever wanted to work for.  I'm not one of those people who have a long list of semi-related technical companies on their resume.  I was a paralegal, then I came to Apple.  I wasn't looking for a job in any computer company, I just wanted to work for Apple.  When I leave Apple, as I expect I will some day, I will likely go on to something else entirely different. 

Working here is taxing.  I work long hours, under high stress.  Our project cycles always feel too short, and there never seem to be enough people to do the work at hand.  Every day is a balancing act of figuring out which tasks are critical and which can be delayed or delegated.  On the other hand, I work with the smartest, most creative people I've ever met, and this company produces products that I'm extremely proud of and use in my everyday life, and would even if I didn't work here.  What really keeps me engaged in this job isn't really the work itself (though I do love what I do), but a fascination with the magic.  Sometimes it feels like we make stuff that people didn't even know they needed until we offer it.  We solve problems that customers weren't even aware were a problem yet, until we made it easier.  Such obvious, simple solutions.  Even from the inside where I can see the machine at work, it still feels like some kind of magic trick, and I'm endlessly fascinated, watching it, trying to figure out the secret to the success.

Artist
When I was little, and other kids dreamed of being firefighters, or lawyers, or president, all I ever wanted to be was an artist.  I've been drawing, painting, and making things for as long as I can remember.  Always.  I took painting lessons in grade school.  I took art classes in high school. When I got to college, I registered as an art major from the first semester.  I wavered a few times when I was feeling broke, or frustrated with my instructors' styles, or realistic about the fact that I wasn't amassing a portfolio that was going to get me shows upon graduation.  But when I surveyed the other options, there was nothing else I wanted to do more than to study art.  So I stuck it out.  By the end of college, though, I was burnt out.  I had learned to make art to please my teachers, but didn't know how to make art that pleased me, or that was personal.  I hadn't found my voice.  I had all the technical skills, but I didn't know what to use them for.  They don't actually teach that part in art school.  So I stopped painting for a while.  I got an office job.  I cut my long hair and stopped wearing boots with my dresses.  I stopped identifying myself as "artist," and decided it was time to grow up and get serious.  Get a career, fit in.

Except that I never really could stop making things, just because I stopped making things with paint.  I started kniting.  I learned to spin, then to weave.  I took some ceramics classes, then silversmithing.  I read somewhere about altered books, and then taught myself how to bind books myself.  Finally, I started painting again, in fits and starts.  I snuck in sideways to it, so as not to scare myself off.  Slowly, I got more and more comfortable, and realized I did have some things to say - I had a voice, though it was still quiet and tentative.  It still is, now, though I'm getting more confident.  I'm growing my hair out a bit, too, and starting to wear boots again.  I missed her, the artist girl.  And I find that I'm much more grown up, confident and serious when I'm being true to myself than when I'm trying to fit in.

Comments

[RI]

BIRD BY BIRD ...DAY BY DAY...WE DO FIND "THE ART WAY" THAT WE WANT ...AND EVERY EXPERIANCE CONTRIBUTES TO THE END...I THINK WHAT YOU ARE SAYING ABOUT ART IS TRUE ...WE DO BURN OUT ...BUT NEVER STOP IN OUR HEAD "DOING ART"...IT CAN BE A BURDEN... BUT THE ART WILL/HAS COME BACK ,AND IT WILL BE DIFFERENT/BETTER... BECAUSE YOU WILL BE DOING IT FOR YOU...

[Kathryn]

I was an early employee of Oracle (once RSI, Relational Software, Inc.). I know that feeling of working with extraordinary people. I even did recruiting at MIT and Stanford. It's nice not to have to get up in the morning now, but often I miss the extraordinary discussions and extraordinary products that we produced. I have always loved technology and am glad to live in a time when so many other people also feel that it is important and life affirming. (Written on a Mac with an iPod and iPhone by my side!)