My computer, Sally (yes, I named my computer), is almost six years old. While I love her to death, it’s about time to put her down. She’s been good to me, despite all the verbal abuse. Problem is, as good as she’s been, there is always better and I’m afraid my business is stalling because Sally no longer works. I need a Mac [insert whiny voice here].

A few weeks ago I was moaning to my boyfriend about how badly I want a Mac. He said, “Yeah, a Mac would be nice, but if you really need a new computer, why don’t you just buy a less expensive PC?

“Because, Sam, Macs are BETTER.”

“Are they really, though? Sally’s lasted you six years.”

Why do I want a Mac, then? I suck at immediate comebacks, but even though Sally has lasted me six years, she ‘s always been a bit shit. And Dell customer service is the worst in the FREAKING WORLD .

My brother has a Mac and I would stare at it longing sometimes. While I was still living at home I borrowed his laptop to film the Pajama Job Hunt and Critique My Profile. To illustrate the incredible contrast between videos on a Mac and videos on a PC, here are two examples.

Here’s a video I filmed on a Mac:

Here’s a video I filmed today on my PC:

If you’d been wondering why I haven’t posted any new episodes of Critique My Profile since moving to London, this would be the reason. The quality is shit, it slows down my computer, the audio is off…

So I need your help!

My computer is my livelihood, but there’s no way I can afford  a Mac right now. I just bought a $1,000 ticket to New Zealand and I’m living in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Yeah yeah, woe is me.

So I’ve started a fund and if you enjoy the content on this site, I’d HUGELY appreciate a pitch-in. It doesn’t need to be a lot. With 5,000 unique visitors per month, even a fifth of you donating only $1 would be enough. 150 of you are subscribed, 250 are on my mailing list, so if you’re a regular reader and feel the need to thank me for all my love and devotion and/or want to give me an early Christmas present, a donation of any amount of money would make me the happiest girl in the world.

A refurbished Mac goes for $929. PayPal takes around 3% so I need to raise $957 for a new computer. Dying to help a girl out? Check out my nifty widget…

Oh, and Apple? Feel free to send me a new computer – I promise I’ll be the best spokeswoman in the world.

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Alright, so maybe my musical posts on this blog aren’t my most popular (the last one got something like 30 hits), but sharing my favorite tracks with you makes me super happy. So there.

Up this week is a recent discovery of mine, Anna Ternheim. While I found her album, Leaving On a Mayday (2008), to be a bit boring, No, I Don’t Remember is so freaking wonderful I had to share. I unfortunately couldn’t find a proper music video but it’s such a gorgeous track, so sit back and listen to one of my iTunes Most Played. I’d highly recommend turning up the volume, especially around the 1:20 mark – it’s just one of those songs.

My boyfriend says he’s noticed that my favorite songs “ache”. This is probably true, but I like to feel music in my achey soul. Sam, however, has excellent musical tastes and you should probably check out his blog (though he hasn’t updated recently).

What about you? What are your favorite “achey” songs?

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While I occasionally share personal stuff here, the purpose of this site as a whole is to get clients and make some moolah. But when I recently asked you guys how I can make the blog better and more interesting for you, a few people asked for more stories/life updates. Here’s a photo of me and the Kiwi to tide you over until a more London-ey type post (how much do you love his hat?):

I figured the debut of my Season 3 involvement on Stratejoy would be the perfect day to celebrate bloggers as more than just social media or knitting or cooking or rock climbing… whatever their “niche” is, it’s nice to hear more about the person behind the posts!

What is Stratejoy you ask? Only the greatest website in the history of ever. Stratejoy is a website full of awesome and positive energy and is run by the FREAKING GORGEOUS Molly Hoyne. Molly is a Life Coach and Stratejoy is her baby where she’s created The Joy Equation (which I’m currently doing and it’s changing my life) and every few months she takes on a new team of bloggers who chronicle their Quarterlife Crisis, new experiences, struggles, etc etc. It’s pretty brilliant, actually. And this season I’m one of the bloggers! Whooo hoo!

Though as I write these posts for Stratejoy, I’m noticing something interesting – even though my job is awesome and I love this blog, I’m slowly forgetting about the things I adore that aren’t about the internet or social media or freelancing.

More Than You Probably Care to Know

Remember when I wanted to be a pastry chef? Yeah, that dream’s still there. I dragged the boyfriend all the way to Primrose Hill to eat these incredibly delicious cupcakes.

For those of you who haven’t met me, I have a crazy loud laugh. The kind that makes people glare when I do it in public, but there’s no way I’ll ever apologize for being happy.

I’m hardcore into my heritage, even though I’m basically your typical white girl – 2nd or 3rd generation depending (Dad is Italian, Mom is Puerto Rican). Doesn’t matter, I love me some tostones and I still pretend I can speak more Spanish than I actually do.

I can’t live with out travel or nature – two things I’ve been sacrificing ever since I started off on my own. Secretly (but I guess not to secretly now) I want to live in a little cabin in the woods and spend my life baking, hiking and going traveling awesome and new every month.

I hate any form of “working out”, but I could go for long walks all the live long day. I love big dogs like huskies and greyhounds and mastiffs. I hate little yappy dogs and I want to stab them in their little yappy faces. I’m by no means a girly girl, but I own about 50 different dresses and feel the need to decorate every space I’ve ever lived in with Christmas lights. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I don’t have a favorite color. Raisins in anything make me crazy enough to scratch out my eyes. Way to ruin granola, raisins! God! My family is nutty and loud and a little frustrating but they’re also significantly more awesome and bad ass than your family. My brothers own my soul but they don’t know it.

Sometimes I hate technology. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I never want to hear the word “tweet” again. Sometimes I can spend hours teaching other people how to rock out and think to myself: “Holy hell. My job is awesome.”

Maybe it’s all about balance. Maybe it’s simply about remembering who I really am.

So check out my first post on Stratejoy! Hopefully the site will be a new haunt for you all – I promise it’s the cat’s pajamas.

Your Turn Now!

Most of you guys have your own blogs, but even if you don’t, I want to know: What makes you…. you? Give me a cool fact or story or interesting quirk that you might never have shared otherwise. Let’s celebrate being awesome!

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Tagging along from yesterday’s post, let’s talk about how to keep up with all those people you follow. My own Twitter strategy involves 10-15 minutes every morning responding to @ replies, retweeting articles I found the day before, writing my own stuff and scheduling it all so it looks like I’m on Twitter all day. Most days I slip up and will sign in for 5 minutes at a time, but it doesn’t consume my life.

How? Lists and HootSuite, baby.

Keep Up With Your Numbers

If you find it difficult to keep up with more than 100-odd people, then don’t follow more than that. Social media shouldn’t feel forced – us addicts can sniff out a fake from a mile away. Keep in mind though that unless you’re Beyonce, limiting the number of people you follow will limit the number of people who follow you.

I can tell you though that following over 1,000 people is incredibly overwhelming and you’ll never keep up with them all. That’s why I use HootSuite and obsessively made and followed lists to keep my followers in check. Take a look at my HootSuite dashboard (click to enlarge):

How to Organize

Here’s a screenshot of my HootSuite Publishing tab:

As you can see, the incredible Ron Hogan created these lists. I’m too lazy  to troll though all the authors ever, and Ron had them categorized by genre, so all I did was follow the list and add it as a tab. Easy peasy! Every so often I check out my publishing tab to see what these authors are up to. I don’t necessarily follow them all, but I do keep an eye on what they’re talking about.

So there are ways to make Twitter less overwhelming and my rule applies to everyone: Get organized. Create Twitter lists. Like I said, I personally like HootSuite, but that’s because my computer is a grandma and can’t handle a desktop download.

It’s hard to go through all your followers and start listing, so organize the people you engage with first. I have a list of all the people who I regularly talk to on Twitter. I have another list for people who comment on my blog. Start there and work your way out. Then, the next time you start following someone, see if they can fit into a list. Here’s a screenshot of my Blog tab. It includes columns of all the people I talk to regularly, clients, blog readers… This is my most important tab and you should create something similar to make sure you’re not missing info from those who engage with you the most:

Doesn’t matter what industry you’re in, organize people you’re following into groups. For example:

1. People you “speak to” regularly
2. Blogs/publications you read
3. Hobbies
4. Friends
5. Social media people (we’re all following them!)

These are just some ideas to get you started. Many obsessive list makers think you should organize by the most basic categories, i.e. “authors”, “newspaper” and “agents”. While helpful, I’ve found it easier to organize people based on my relationship with them. Make sense?

The screenshots should help show you how I keep up-to-date with everyone I follow, not just those I see while I’m online in the morning.

Some Thoughts to Keep in Mind

If I see someone I might want to follow and they happen to be following very few people I think, “yeah, they’re never going to follow me back” so I don’t follow them at all. So while it is nice to look more important than you are, remember that Twitter is about relationships. It’s not about how many numbers of people are exposed to your message, but how many people care about that message at all.

The only reasons I would follow someone who doesn’t follow very many people is if the content they put out is so freaking fantastic I couldn’t possibly live without it. How many of us are actually doing that?

There is so much information out there on how to organize followers and how to save time and how to be productive, blah blah blah. But I wanted to give you the bare bones. HOWEVER, if you have specific questions I’m more than happy to address this in the comments section. Ready? Set? Go!

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Alrighty folks, I know I left you on a cliffhanger last time, so let’s just jump right back in.

(Confused? Go here. Then come back.)

How I Escaped The Slammer

After my initial horror at being told I would be deported to freaking Iceland, I got into Marian-mode. I waited too long to come to England, my boyfriend and I had been through too much. Hell. No. To give you a better idea of what charges were made against me, here’s a list:

• I hadn’t purchased a ticket home and was unsure about the length of my stay. While I knew I wouldn’t be in the UK for more than 6 months, my trip could have been a few weeks or it could have been until November. My “unsureness” was suspicious and the immigration officer was convinced I was lying.
• I had $4 in my wallet, which apparently is proof I have no other funds available. There is no ATM between the airplane and customs, by the way.
• I had no proof of my intention to travel to New Zealand. While I told the officer about my plans to live there, I hadn’t applied for a working visa yet (5 months in advance), which apparently means I am “not acceptable there.” (Her words, not mine.)
• I was unable to provide confirmation of employment. Okay, this is a tricky one. I said I was a freelance consultant, but don’t usually carry pay stubs or Pay Pal receipts with me. My website wasn’t enough, either.

In order to have a fighting chance at being let in, Boyfriend Sam bought me a ticket home (£600, one-way), my parents provided bank statements, family friends (UK citizens) acted as my guarantors, Sam’s parents wrote a letter confirming I would be in New Zealand come December, and the officers did a thorough sweep of my website.

And found this.

Defending my choice of blog topics will be a follow up to this post, so I won’t address it now. That said, I think the immigration officer read the headline, assumed I would never leave the UK and responded to my appeal with a prompt “No.”

Then my mom called. No fancy family friend or guarantor or £600 airplane ticket could do what my mom did in a 20 minute phone call. That woman is a force to be reckoned with, and while I didn’t hear the conversation, I assume she argued that officer into submission. That, or my family and friend’s consistent check-ins annoyed the whole office into releasing me.

Beyond My Story

At 2pm on Friday I was granted freedom. And let me tell you something, it felt damn good.

Except I left behind a group of detainees, all of whom would be deported. Many of whom couldn’t reach their families. A good portion of whom spoke no English whatsoever.

A Nigerian woman who rode next to me in the transport van leaned over every few minutes and ask, “Prison?” “No. Not prison,” I responded. “Detention facility.” She definitely had no idea what I was talking about and no one took the time to explain. The officers and escorts didn’t speak her language, and they operated under the school of thought that speaking louder equals understanding.

Just think about this for a second: You’re traveling to another country and for no reason you can understand you’re taken by uniformed men and locked in a room. No one tells you why and all you hear is shouting. After hours of sitting in this locked room you’re thrown into the back of a van and driven 3 hours in the middle of the damn night to the middle of damn nowhere. Then you’re poked and prodded by a doctor you didn’t authorize to poke and prod you, you’re interrogated more in a language you don’t understand. You’re locked in another room for the night.

Who knows where she is. Who knows what will happen to her. Another woman I was transported with has been in and out of facilities for a week. A WEEK. With no idea why!

Do you know what I’m sick of though? People telling me it would have been worse in the States. You know what? I don’t freaking care. You don’t treat people like that, period. And immigration officers? Don’t punish me for being American. I know our policies suck, but I didn’t make the rules! So stop telling me that I wouldn’t have even gotten a phone call back home, because I’m not home. I’m here. And while the officers were nice(ish), they also treated me like a terrorist.

Where I Go From Here…

I’m writing this from my new bed in the UK and have been granted temporary residence until the 18th of November.  Yes, I realize how incredibly incredibly lucky I am, but I’m also furious and a little traumatized and a lot tired. This blog focuses on stuff not at all related to immigration, but regular posts will be suspended this week so I can air out my drama. Check back tomorrow for the details on how my blog almost got me deported and why I’m still refusing to censor myself.

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The only thing that’s kept me sane for the past few days has been composing this post. I probably should have known the second my mom said, “I hope your flight gets delayed and you get stranded in Iceland,” that my trip was about to go horribly wrong.

God, what an intro. I sound like a YA author: “Hi. My name’s Marian, I’m 12 years old, and this is how the British government ruined my summer.” (Note: I had a layover in Iceland and my mom has always wanted to see the country and was hoping to live vicariously through me. This wasn’t a malicious comment.)

Basically, Boyfriend Sam and I did some research and found that I could stay in the UK for 6 months as long as I wasn’t working or studying. Nowhere did the website say there was a physical visa I needed to obtain, and since I’m broke, I figured I’d be good without one. Strike one, Britain.

Journal Entry – July 8, 2010

As I (hand) write this, I’m being held in Gatwick airport for the second day in a row. At around midnight yesterday I was transferred to a women’s detention facility (Yarl’s Wood – see left) three hours outside London. Meaning I probably got around 2 hours of sleep before being shipped back out to Gatwick.

I use the word “sleep” loosely. My bed consisted of a cot and unwashed sheets and it’s kind of hard to sleep with giant beetles scuttling around the floors. And when I say “shipped” I mean “transported in a bullet proof van with tinted windows and a cage inside.” I’m being deported back to Iceland at 7:30 tonight. It’s been a good 24 hours.

I’ve been treated like a criminal because I didn’t have a ticket back home, so right now I’m waiting for Sam, his lawyer friend, all his roommates, my mother and a family friend to pull some miracle out of their collective ass.

As I write this I realize how privileged I sound. Oooh! My prison didn’t have clean sheets! My daddy’s hot shot friend hasn’t bailed me out yet! Half the people here don’t speak English and at least I have a home to go back to. I shouldn’t whine, but I’m scared. I’ve spent 6 of the last 24 hours in a cage. I’ve been locked in a room for the other 18. An immigration officer read my diary and interrogated my boyfriend. Yeah, it’s been a GREAT day.

Despite being freaked out and tired and hungry and bored, the worst part has been the frustration. It’s obvious the officers here were bullied as kids and get off on making us feel small. Reading my diary? Really? Plus, my reasons for being deported are ridiculous, and every time I ask for more details or information on an appeal or how to apply for a visa I get a different answer. No one seems to know anything, or if they do, their answers all contradict each other.

The airport holding center is stocked with fruit, biscuits and store brand chips. They’ve got a pay phone that doesn’t call out, bathrooms with no locks, hotel pads of paper and those mini pens, one of which I’ve already used up. The news is on in the background and the bookcase is filled with everything from the Bible and paperback romances, to a five-year old guide to Brazil and a few children’s books written in Urdu. I did, however, find a recent issue of Wired, which is like gold in the Big House.

I’ve made two friends – an Australian and a Brazilian – both of whom were detained under suspiciously similar circumstances. I’ve spent most of of the time here bawling, and when Sam was finally able to call I was sobbing so hard my eyes were throbbing. A very tall pregnant Nigerian got me a tissue and said, “You stop crying now.” I think it was meant to be comforting.

The Bigger Picture

There is so much more to this story, but I know how ADD blog readers are, so I’ll stop at 800 words. Check back tomorrow for the ending, but keep in mind that I’m terrified that writing this means immigration officers will barge in and put me back in that damn van (hi guys!). But this isn’t just my story anymore. The past few days have been horrible, but it’s a small part of a much bigger situation. That Nigerian woman didn’t have anyone fighting for her. Being trucked off for 3 hours to the middle of nowhere with no idea what was happening must have been beyond traumatizing. I can’t even imagine what it was like for the children involved.

I was lucky as hell, because one (incredibly nice, handsome, wonderful) officer actually took the time to review my case THREE times and was instrumental in my release. I owe him my sanity, the insane amount of money I would have spent appealing in Iceland, and probably a dozen cupcakes.

Stay tuned…

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For the life of me I can’t remember how Josh Pyke came under my radar. I wish I did so I could give a great big bear hug to whoever did the recommending.

While I was working at that museum in Manhattan over the winter, there was a lot of walking in the snow. Sometime in February we had this huge blizzard and the entire city was weirdly quiet. On my walk from the subway station to the museum I listened to “The Lighthouse Song” and now all I can think of when I hear it is big, fat flakes and the craziest city on earth at a standstill when covered in snow.

If you thought I couldn’t get any mushier than that, I’d also like to point out that one of my favorite lines EVER is in this little diddy: “When I should be leaning against you, deciding on things to get done, and you should be leaning on fountains and filling my space up and breathing the air from my lungs.” Swoon.

Enjoy! (And tell me what you think…)

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I have developed a love/hate relationship with Facebook. The hate stems from the fact that I’m really annoyed with the service at the moment… Mostly because my “interests” included “my muffin” (Desi), “pretty journals”, and a number of other random odds and ends that don’t really have a designated page so they have since been deleted. Plus, Mark Zuckerberg is an ass hat.

That aside, my loving and dear relationship with Facebook is way more personal. A relationship I’ve been struggling over addressing as it’s not my issue. This post has taken me over a month to write properly because there is no good way to blog about the death of a friend.

The Story

A little over a month ago I get a call from one of my oldest friends, Nicky. Dialogue is easier in this instance so here it goes:

Nicky: Have you seen Niki P’s Facebook profile?

Me: Um… Hi! What’s up?

Nicky: No, seriously. Have you seen it?

Me: No.

Nicky: I think we lost him.

Me: What do you mean lost him?

Nicky: Marian, I think he’s dead.

Me: What the fuck are you talking about? That’s ridiculous.

I then proceeded to look up Niki, the brother of my childhood best friend, Thana. His Facebook wall was littered with “RIP, bro’s” and “I miss you’s”. Then I Googled him. Nothing. No news, no explanation of what the hell had happened to this boy I’d known since he was five.

To be honest, I initially thought it was a joke. A sick joke, but this was a first for me. I couldn’t reach Thana, but her Facebook wall looked similar to her brothers. Lots of “you’re in my prayers” and “so sorry for your loss.”

Really? REALLY? Did I just find out that my best friend’s brother was dead through Facebook?

I got a text from Thana later that day confirming it was not, in fact, a joke. I still had no idea what happened but my friend was busy and most likely screwed up out of her mind, so the internet was the only connection to what is now one of the saddest days of my life.

Thana is a wonderful person and the two of us were attached at the hip as children. She moved to Croatia at 13 and we continued to be best friends, regardless of the distance. The problem with her Croatia location is that I can’t be there for her. One of my oldest and dearest friends is halfway across the world and I can’t do anything about it. So I used Facebook.

Niki and Thana Pavelic

The Love/Hate Relationship

Facebook. The brunt of many jokes; the confirmation that you are indeed “friends” or “in a relationship” with someone. A defining element of our generation. The website that can prevent you from getting a job (or get a you a job). The one presence in our lives that made privacy, well, totally optional.

I always saw Facebook as a necessary evil, but a month ago it became my comfort. The one thing I had of my friends that made me part of their grief instead of separated from it.

Finally, Google told me Niki died in a car/motorcycle accident, but I continued to stalk his Facebook profile. Friends started to write stories about him on his wall. One friend created a memorial video. Someone started a group that in a month has 490 members. People submitted photos and videos to a dedicated album.

Niki’s memorial service was in California, where he went to school. I unfortunately couldn’t be there, but Thana posted her father’s eulogy as a note on her profile.

Facebook may be a silliness attributed to our generation, but I realize now it has completely altered it. Facebook has, importantly, changed the way we grieve. It’s made it better. Easier. Well, as easy as grief can be.

—–

Is it just me, or have you experienced anything like this too? Stories of Facebook as more than just a frivolous social tool? And my weird curiosity has me wondering, what happens to someone’s profile when they die?

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I guess the headline pretty much covers it, but yeah, I’m moving to London on July 7th.

AHHHHHHHH!!!! AKDFLJFDIAJIFOEOIWRFEIOFSAAAA!!!!!

That’s what my terror slash excitement sounds like.

You heard about the holy-crap-I-miss-the-UK-and-my-boyfriend drama, so I guess it’s only fair I give you the conclusion, right? Well, the conclusion is that my 3 week journey was perfection, my clients are awesome, my business is portable, my Kiwi is… well… I’m moving to London.

Oh. And after that? New Zealand, ya’ll. New Zealand.

Apparently this is what New Zealand looks like.

So what does this all mean?

Besides the whole moving-around-the-world thing, not a hell of a lot. The time difference means that I get my work done before everyone else is even awake, the lack of New York means I’ll be a lot calmer. Business will continue as usual! I don’t know yet how long before I return to the States, but the beauty of my job is that I rarely need to actually be anywhere.

I love meeting blog friends in person so now you all have an excuse to come visit me somewhere cool ;-) That said, if you are interested in hiring me, let’s take advantage of the interwebs. Skype! Screen capturing software! Ooohh…. The telephone!

I’m starting up a few different projects: job coaching, social media “consulting” (aka thuggery), more training programs…. This blog and Pajama Job Hunt will continue as normal!

So dear friends, get ready for some kick ass travel photos and wish me luck on my newest adventure!

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Welcome to the first video of the Critique My Profile series! Today I checked out Elaine of @nicholsonsgems, so watch the video below and take a look at my list of tasks for Elaine:

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Some actionable tasks for Elaine:

Bio

• Get rid of those links! If you want to direct people to your LinkedIn profile/blog/Flickr page, post them clearly in your background or delete them.
• Change your name to your actual name.
• Edit your bio so you include the interesting stuff about yourself!

Background:

• That info is way too small and the links are too long. Enlarge the text and shorten the link so they’re easy for people to type.
• Showcase your jewelry! Redesign your background so you’ve got some pretty baubles to show off.
• Transfer your background bio to your actual Twitter bio. Don’t forget to fix the grammar!

Followers:

• Find and engage with other jewelers, stores, design blogs, etc. Use Listorious to find relevant tweeps.
• Here are some interesting people you might want to emulate:
  • @JewelryInsider
  • @GottaHaveBling
  • @htjewels
  • @OpenSky_Jewelry
  • @Shaesby
  • @JewelryBizGuru

Tweets:

• Get your links working.
• Start tweeting about more jewelry-related stuff.
• Not seeing many RTs, start spreading the love!
• Maybe photograph a piece of jewelry a day and post it to your feed?
• What’s with the long links? Add substance to your tweets by shortening your links and talking more.

Alright guys, what do you think? Did you find this video helpful? Do you want me to critique your Twitter profile? Do you have more ideas for Elaine? Leave your comments below!

If you’re interested in more video shenanigans, sign up for the Pajama Job Hunt! A 3-part video tutorial on using Twitter as the ULTIMATE job hunting tool. Click here for more info.

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