One was just odd, if a little boring. I was working at Best Buy again, except this time I was a cashier. For some reason, my uniform was a pair of shorts and a long white tank top (so long that you could only just see my shorts sticking out below it). It must have been my first day, because I was feeling overwhelmed. I processed a few customers through the line, and then a guy came through with a full cart. He was a heavyset black man, and I knew he was a musician. He was buying a keyboard (I think it was a Yamaha), and the price was $199.99. The rest of his cart was full of packs of blank CDs and DVDs. I asked him to take everything out of the cart so I could scan it, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he went downstairs (for some reason, my register position was up on a platform of some kind) and started scanning things himself. I was able to see on my register monitor each item he scanned, and I noticed after some time that he started deleting things, I guess so he wouldn’t have to pay for them. I told him he needed to bring his cart up to me so I could scan everything, and when he brought it back up to me, he had all these duffel bags in there, as well, that were full of A/V equipment, and even more packs of CDs and DVDs. I remember trying to sort everything out, and feeling really annoyed that it was taking so long.

The other dream was seemingly much shorter, but it had a much bigger impact. I awoke from it this morning feeling so sad, and emotionally lost. The same emotions I was having in this dream carried over into my waking world, and even though I’ve been awake for several hours now, have gone though my morning routine, managed my commute, gotten my work day started – I still feel shaken and unsettled from it, like I might cry at any minute.

I was with my mom and my sister, meeting my grandfather for the first time (this “grandfather” wasn’t anyone I recognize from my waking life – merely a construct). He was tall and slender with dark hair and features, and was somewhat serious – he didn’t speak much. There were a number of trunks and boxes full of what I suppose were his things from various points in his life. He found a book (it was a large paperback full of black and white photos of old movie stars) with traces of cocaine in it, and snorted a few lines. His personality changed immediately to upbeat and gregarious. He began moving all around the “room” (which for some reason was on the sidewalk next to a busy street – at the entry to a large traffic circle with a monument in the center) and talking to people. He moved fluidly, almost as if he was on rollerskates, although I didn’t see any. My mother became very upset and decided it was time to leave. I knew this would be the last time I’d see my “grandfather” so I asked him if I could keep his tattered white bathrobe to remember him by. He said yes. I told him, “I know my mom said I should hate you, but I can’t.” (This is the only actual spoken words I can remember from this dream). He smiled sadly, and moved on. My mother had already gotten a taxi and was gone by this point, leaving my sister and I to find one for ourselves. It was now raining lightly. While my sister and I had been quite young (or at least it felt like we were) up to that point, we are now older (twenties, perhaps?) as we tried to hail a cab. As we stood in the rain waiting for a cab, I felt so heartbroken. I knew that this man wasn’t a bad person, and it felt wrong to punish him that way for making a stupid choice. But I had no say in the matter, and was left with a senseless emptiness.

That’s when I woke up. I know it’s stupid – this person doesn’t (and never did) exist. My mom never told me to hate anyone. I haven’t been left in the rain, clutching a ratty bathrobe and feeling such loss. But I can’t shake it, and I want to cry.

I’ve been having a really terrible bout of insomnia lately, and I’m not sure why. It started a couple of weeks ago, when I was having some medical issues (turned out to be nothing urgent, but it took a little while to find that out.) It made sense that I wasn’t sleeping then, because I was worried. I’d crawl into bed, willing sleep to take me, but it always drifted just out of reach.

Once I found out I was okay, though, I thought the insomnia would end. I had nothing else on my mind really, so why wouldn’t it? But here it is, more than 2 weeks later, and every night’s still a battle to reach the land of sleep. I’m staying up later, until I’m exhausted, which seems to be the only way to minimize hours of tossing and turning. The down side is that I don’t want to wake up from the little bit of sleep I do end up getting. *sigh*

It’s now 2:31AM. I have to be up for work in about 5 and a half hours, six if I can rush myself while getting ready tomorrow. I seem to be getting through the days okay, but these nights are brutal! I’ve got to figure something out.

What do YOU do when you can’t sleep? Do you have any night-tine rituals? Any special remedies that seem to do the trick? Drop me a comment and let me know what works for you!

This post is in support of Blog Scam Awareness Day. Today was named as such in response to the experiences many bloggers have experienced in dealing with Sarasota, Florida based blog and web designer, Jessica (Bailey) Sanderson, formerly of Delicious Design Studio. It is important that our stories get out there – not just in the distant hope of getting our monies refunded, but more so to raise awareness of Jessica and other people like her, that look to exploit honest bloggers by promising quality design work and great customer service, but end up robbing people of their money.

I started this blog because I enjoy writing, and the sense of community that comes from posting my thoughts in an open forum where people can interact. What better way to connect with people from all over the world? And I picked the WordPress platform, because I love the configurability of it, and the seemingly limitless ways to customize it. In addition to thousands of free themes, there are tons of amazing and reputable designers out there who put their talents to work in creating custom themes that reflect the unique personalities of the blogosphere. It was my intention, shortly after I moved to WordPress, to have a custom theme made by one of these designers, as I loved the idea of having something that was made just for me. After reviewing some portfolios, I decided to contact Jessica Bailey, of Sarasota, Florida. At the time, she owned her own design business, and the site for that business had some really great, eye-catching designs. There were numerous accolades on her site from happy clients; I thought that her work was awesome, and that her talents were a perfect match for what I wanted my site to look like. Had I known then what I know now, I would have had the sense to run for the hills rather than hire her – this is my story.

In March of 2009, I contacted Jessica via e-mail (the only option presented on her business’s website, whcih should have been a red flag from the start). I described what I was looking for, and generally what my blog was about. She got back to me within a day and told me that she was really happy I’d contacted her, and that she was excited to work on my blog design. She explained the process of how everything was going to work, a price quote for what I was looking for, what I could expect as far as timeframes from start to end, mock-ups, etc. I told her that was fine, and that all was a-go. Very shortly after that I received an invoice. I wanted to make sure I made it onto her (apparently rapidly filling) schedule, so I paid it immediately. I e-mailed her to confirm that she’d received the payment, which she had, and she informed me that I was on the schedule for “summer”. While I thought that was kind of a long wait for a simple blog design, and not entirely certain of the exact meaning of “summer”, I kind of chalked it up to her having a lot of clients (her designs were great, so it made sense) and left it at that.
In July, I decided to touch base with Jessica, just to see where things stood, and maybe get a clearer picture of “summer”. I didn’t recall her e-mail address off the top of my head, so I once again contacted her via the “Contact Us” form on her business’s website. Rather than getting a response from Jess, though, I got one from a gentleman I’d never heard from before. He informed me that he was the new owner of the business, and that Jess was no longer affiliated with them. He gave me her personal e-mail address and said I could reach her that way. This is when the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach started. But I still wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I contact Jess’s personal e-mail. She got back to me and very breezily informed me that yes, she had in fact sold the business, and was designing under her own name. She assured me that she could work much faster this way. She also told me that I was on the schedule for the third week in August, and my design would only take about 5-7 days to complete once she started. I felt somewhat reassured at this point. I still had a nagging bit of doubt, but ignored it and once again let things be.
On September 8, I still had no design, and hadn’t had any contact from Jess since our exchange in July. I sent another e-mail, wanting to know what was up. She said that she had started on my design the week before Labor Day weekend, and would have it to me within a week or two. I was more than a little bit annoyed by this point, what with two blown deadlines, little to no communication, and nothing to show for my frustration. But, I reasoned, I had paid her, so she’ll do the work she was paid to do. I was, apparently, completely wrong. And her e-mail response on September 8 was the last I’d heard from her.
Now, it’s February 1, 2010. Nearly a year since this whole debacle began. I’ve sent her multiple e-mails, even offering to let her “off the hook” of designing my blog, if she just refunded my money. No response to that. I filed a complain with the Attorney General in Sarasota, and e-mailed her to let her know, thinking that might get a response – nothing. I e-mailed her to let her know I’d filed a complaint with both PayPal and my bank in an effort to get my money refunded ($212.50, FYI), and I got nothing back from her. I also e-mailed her to let her know that I’d contacted an attorney, again to no avail. I’ve messaged her on Facebook (her profile is private, so I couldn’t post anything on her wall) and got nothing back. I sent her a message on Twitter, where we mutually followed each other. Her response was to not only stop following me, but to block me from following her or sending her direct messages. Where before, I could potentially believe that maybe she just wasn’t getting my e-mails, I now had proof that she was actively ignoring me, as well as going out of her way to eliminate methods of contact.
While I should have done it sooner, I began researching Jessica Bailey, now Jessica Sanderson (one of the last Twitter updates she posted before I was blocked from viewing her feed was that she’d married her longtime boyfriend, Conor, a tattoo artist in Sarasota). Each day that I looked, I discovered that I wasn’t the only person who’d been victimized by her – not by a long shot. I now know of at least 30 people she’s scammed, and have been in personal contact with many of them. The amounts of money she’s stolen (because this is theft) range from person to person, but are generally a couple of hundred dollars – not a huge sum when looked at individually, but quite a bit when you realize how many people have been affected.Many of these victims are also located in other countries, which means that they have little to no legal recourse. These two facts (amounts and locations of victims) could lead one to speculate that she thought this through – if you’re scamming people who have no legal right to sue in this country, and you’re taking amounts of money that would be dwarfed by the cost to legally recover anyway, it becomes all too easy to make fast money. Add in the fact that you’re nearly unreachable, and it’s a nearly perfect scam. This is a scam I’ve got a feeling she’s been looking to duplicate, too – in the time surrounding all of these issues, Jessica started a number of other ventures, and was designing under other names. Do some looking online for references to webdesigngal, patternsandpixels, thetattooedmama, and jessicalenee (to name a few) and you’ll start uncovering details that can help piece this all together.
I don’t know if I, or any of my fellow victims, will ever have money refunded. And I think I speak for a lot of us when I say that it’s mostly a matter of principle at this point, anyway. We were all taken in by someone in whom we had at least some level of trust, and that trust was exploited so shamelessly by someone who obviously doesn’t care about hurting people. I worry about the kind of example she’s setting for her young daughter, and it bothers me that she’s raising her (at least partially) with stolen money.  I worry about the victims who invested money for web designs for their businesses, who subsequently lost money because Jess’s lack of work prevented them from launching their site on time (or those few who DID receive a design from her, but it turned out to be so poorly done that they had to hire someone else to fix it). The list goes on and on.
So many of us have been ripped off in various ways by Jessica Bailey, and it’s disheartening to think that she’ll never attempt to right the wrongs she’s done, or even give a damn about them. But, maybe by banding together like we are today, those of us who have a story to share about how they’ve been scammed by her can draw some attention and make her take notice, and also maybe prevent this type of thing from happening to others in the future.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – New York is an amazing city, perhaps the best in the world. Things happen in New York that you’ll never see, hear, or experience anywhere else. Leaving my apartment each morning, I never know who or what I’ll encounter, which makes this an exciting place to live and work. And a lot of the excitement I encounter happens on the subway.

In New York, virtually everyone travels by subway at some point or another, which means you’ve got all types. And it often happens that being on the subway means that you become part of a captive audience to any number of performers, evangelists, self-proclaimed gurus, and various crazies that also have to get from Point A to Point B (or just need people to shout at). Commuting about an hour and a half each way to and from work everyday, I spend a good part of my day as part of that audience. Some of these people are entertaining, some annoying, some sad, but they’re all part of the New York experience. I know not all of you will have a chance to encounter these people firsthand, so I figured what better way to give you a flavor of the city I call home than to share it with you? From time to time, I capture audio (and a photo or two) of some of these people on my iPhone, and I’ll post it here for your enjoyment, amusement, confusion, disbelief, wonderment, and various other responses.

You’re welcome.

Today, just to get you in the mood, is just a snippet of the train pulling into the station. This was recorded at the
Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station, uptown #6 platform.


Uptown #6 Train

I had been in the bedroom, Sean was in the living room. I got up to use the bathroom

Sean: Oh, you’re in the bathroom?
Me (from the bathroom): Yeah.
Sean: What are you doing?
Me (rolling eyes): Going to the bathroom!

In a room this size, what else could I possibly be doing??

What does he expect me to say – “I’m training circus elephants!”.
Honestly. I’m in the bathroom with the door closed – the list of potential activities is somewhat limited. Yet, he still asks, and I still answer.

Oh, the bliss of domestic life…

In New York City, it’s not unusual to see people knitting on the subway. I’m commute via subway at least 3 hours a day during the week, so I see them all the time. And most of them are geek girls in their 20′s and 30′s – my peeps! I have to admit, knowing that knitting has become so popular with a younger set and is no longer relegated to mothball smelling grannies on their plastic covered armchairs, really spurred my desire to learn. So I bought a “teach yourself knitting” kit with two skeins of yarn, some needles, and a book. I studied the book for a while, then tried to replicate what I saw. I think I tried for about an hour before I decided that it was shit and I’d never learn. I put my knitting away and left it for a few months. I’m a poor sport when it comes to a learning curve.

Well, fast forward to about 2 weeks ago. I can’t recall exactly what it was that made me decide to try again, but I did, and with a bit more patience this time. I sat down with my needles, yarn, and book, and tried again, without success in even casting on. Instead of tossing it aside again, I decided that the problem was not that I’d never learn, but that I’d never learn from looking at pictures. It dawned on me how difficult it can be to learn a three dimensional, movement skill (such as knitting, dancing, Formula 1 racing) by looking at two dimensional illustrations and photographs. And this is when my digital obsession steps in.

YouTube, in this scenario, has been my salvation. A simple search for “how to knit” yielded a treasure trove of video tutorials. I could watch different methods from different people, and pause, rewind, and rewatch to my heart’s content. And within about 10 minutes, I had my first row cast on. A little more watching, trying, rewatching, and retrying, and I was actually knitting! Ain’t life grand?

So it’s been a couple of weeks now, and I’m nearing completion on a scarf I’m making for my niece. Is it beautiful and perfect? Not by a long shot. But 1. She’s only 15 months old, so I can pretty much guarantee that she won’t give a shit and 2. It’s a result. I’m learning the skill, and having a hell of a blast doing it. I’ve bought multiple needles in different sizes, and different yarns to work with, and I can actually see myself doing this as a long standing hobby. It’s relaxing, and the result of actually making something (Crafty? me? Whoda thunk it??) really makes me proud. I’m really looking forward to getting better at my new-found skill (and obsession, I think!) so I can make all kinds of lovely things. Grand things are ahead, from humble beginnings.

Every weekday morning, I have to fight through the crowds to get to my office…I have to stop multiple times so I don’t end up in someone’s photo of smiling relatives in front of the WTC (it’s a fucking construction site that was previously a mass grave, people – it’s not Disneyland), and I’m sick of having to take off my headphones to direct them to whatever place is apparently more important than what I happen to be listening to (I can be a little less uptight about this one now that Lost is on summer break and I don’t have to keep up with the podcasts, but I still get a little ansty when someone disrupts “Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me). These things annoy me a bit every day, and it builds up after a while into an all encompassing grump-fest.

This past Monday morning, however, they were in rare form. Not only were they blocking the sidewalk (hey, here’s a hint – the word “walk” in the term sidewalk? It’s not merely a suggestion – it’s what you do on a sidewalk. As opposed to congregating like cattle. Get out of my fucking way!) but there were so many that I had to go around them and walk into the middle of the street to get by. Or I would have walked into the middle of the street had I not been bumped on the way, which caused me to step onto the curb, where I immediately rolled my ankle (the same one from the infamous Dance Dance Revolution incident of 2006), which caused me to fall (of all the days to be wearing a dress), subsequently skinning both my knees and jamming my wrist (2 days later, and I’m noticing pain in my ribcage, too. Joy!). In front of about 75 spectators. With cameras. I am not pleased. And something tells me that I ended up in someone’s “Hey, look what I saw in New York!” vacation photos.

Now, before all you travelers out there get your panties in a bunch, please let me make a distinction here. Travelers are not the same as tourists. Travelers are capable of visiting a foreign and exotic place (such as Manhattan) and not going batshit fucking crazy. They can take in the sights, read maps, take photos, ride the subway, and all manner of wondrous feats, all without being a nuisance. They understand basic courtesy, and the fact that even though they’re on vacation, not everyone else in the city is. I love these people. Their excitement at being in my city makes me proud that I live here. And their ability to keep their heads on straight makes me not want to smack them. This is a good thing.

Tourists, on the other hand, are the loud, obnoxious, ungainly subset of this otherwise delightful group of people. They’re the ones parading around the city in their “I <3 NY” shirts and fanny packs, taking up space on crowded subway with their fully unfolded city maps, and stopping short on the sidewalks to take snapshots of every building they think *might* be the Empire State (here’s a hint – if you’re downtown, it’s not it. And don’t get annoyed if I end up bumping into your fanny pack. You stopped for no reason, and those things are tacky anyway.) These are the people I encountered on Monday, the ones that make me want to say and do things that will set back the progress of NYC’s “tourist friendly” reputation at least 30 years.

But I don’t say or do these things. I’m a lover, not a fighter. So what do I do instead? I hold back the tide of rage, preferring instead to let it go in random, snarky Twitter posts. And now, I’ve decided to do one better and offer you, potential visitors to my city, the Greatest City in The World, some tips on how to enjoy your time here without incurring the wrath of locals less restrained than myself. And now I present you with:

8 Simple Rules for Visiting my Fair City

1. That city map you cling to that folds out to roughly the size of the Yankees infield rain tarp? Ditch it. It only draws attention to you and your family, which makes you a prime candidate for a mugging, snide comments, or both. Plus, if you’re reading it on the subway, you just look like a jerk. There are lovely maps on display in all the subway cars; they’re encased in Plexiglas, and you don’t even have to worry about refolding them. See, this is all about you.

2. If you’re going on a sightseeing outing (particularly with a group of people), DO NOT INSIST ON WEARING AN I <3 NY SHIRT! You don’t look original, or cute, or (bless you for trying) a local. You look like a sheep. Yes, New Yorkers do “heart” New York, but it’s more complicated than anything you could express on a t-shirt, and it’s certainly not something that can develop over a long weekend of sightseeing. Just throw on whatever you wear when you’re in Topeka or Austin or wherever you come from and go do your thing.

3. Fanny packs. I believe I’ve covered this. If you have to carry more than a wallet and a cell phone, may I suggest a backpack? Practical, comfortable, far less douchey. Enough said.

4. Don’t ask the locals where the tourist spots are. All this does is piss us off. New York is full of so many wonderful places to see, and we’re happy to direct you to them. Hell, I’m more than happy to recommend a whole slew of nifty “only in New York” kind of places. But all of the touristy places are sign-marked, and any cabbie or city map (bearing in mind rule 1) can direct you there. Also, many New Yorkers are touchy about the World Trade Center (wounds like that run pretty deep) so it’s not uncommon to ask how to get there and end up being directed to Harlem.

5. If you must ask someone how to get to your intended location, look for someone who’s not listening to headphones or in the middle of a phone call. This isn’t particular to New York, it’s called common courtesy, and you’d be surprised how often people forget that.

6. Keep your wallet out of sight! Not all New Yorkers are out to beat you up and take your lunch money. But it does happen. Whipping out your wallet on a subway or in the middle of a busy sidewalk is an invitation to get ripped off.

7. Keep the sidewalks clear!!! Like I said before, the “walk” part of that word is key. I’m not suggesting that if you have to stop, you step out into the streets (as I learned, that’s dangerous.) But at least move to the side. People in this city are always on the move, and having to stop because a sidewalk full of people is entranced by the sight of a genuine New York hot dog cart can really mess with our groove.

8. New York City is not a theme park. Therefore, if you bring your kids, you don’t want the locals to have to parent them for you. Because they’ll be treated just like anyone else. If Billy and Susie are bouncing off the walls (particularly on a subway during commuter hours), being loud and disruptive, or bumping into people left and right in Times Square, they will be treated exactly the same way as an adult would if they were doing the same thing. This isn’t out of cruelty or rudeness or because we don’t think your kids aren’t “so adorable” when they’re singing “Spongebob Squarepants” for the 57th time or using the subway bars as their own personal jungle gym on a packed train during afternoon rush hour. It’s because you’re in our universe, and we implore you to remember that. All due respect to how things are done in Mayberry, but this is New York, and we’ve got our own issues to deal with.

I don’t want anyone to fear coming to New York. Like I said, this is the greatest city in the world. But you have to keep in mind the personality of the people who live here. We just want to live our lives without being intruded upon or inconvenienced. So when you step into our city (or nearly any vacation city, for that matter), take these rules to heart. Unless you’re on vacation someplace that’s going to cater to your every whim, chances are you’re going to encounter people who live their everyday lives in the places you choose to visit. And if you want to have great memories of that place, it’s best not to piss off the natives.