From here to there...

(Thought it would be fitting to start our blog off with a wee bit of Swoon nostalgia. I wrote this back in ye good ole days (or the dark ages, take yer pick) of when Swoon was headquartered out of 135 Plymouth in DUMBO. It was written amidst of a sea of deadlines, and I was certainly floating adrift--procrastinating at any opportunity and writing about anything and everything except what needed to be written. It pleases me sometimes to think of myself and our frenzied energy as a whole at that time, or as Kelly put it when she saw me once in such a state, laughing, "Anya you look crazy! you look like a friend of Allen Ginsberg!" I had just emerged from the building in a pink raincoat with raccoon eyes and an afro the size of Jupiter. Oh well...better crazy than boring!)

Getting It Done: Down the Hatch with Anya Ferring

DAY 1:
Ah, the first day. I am well-rested and eager to begin my creative venture. I anticipate the coming days to be filled with a considerable amount of rewarding work, and granted, a decent amount of stress as well, but all-in-all things will be clicking together like clockwork in the real world just like they have been in my mind. I hack out a few preliminary outlines, review the final gameplan, and fantasize about how great the final product will inevitably be. Then I go out to eat and top the meal off with a self-rewarding (and well-deserved, I smirk to myself), glass of wine to end the day on good spirits (nyuk-nyuk!)

DAY 2:
By the second day low-level anxiety about deadlines, and Getting It Done has started to creep in on the rest of my day-to-day needs, but it has not fully replaced them YET. I am still working a lot, but I might indulge myself with lots of excuses for breaks or "necessary errands."  I am taking naps when I feel too pressured and still pampering myself incase I feel too overworked and cease to feel inspired creatively.

DAY 3:
By the third day other members of the team step on board with complementary baggage as well. We're all somewhat edgy and everyone's a bit nervous. It's like there's an unmentioned person in the room with us, and his name is August 23rd. He requires no introduction (our deadline). 

DAY 4:
By the fourth day anyone involved who has managed to survive the layout process till 5 in the morning the previous night before has inevitably broken down to some form of complete wackiness, hatred, or severe dementia. It is funny because the only person expecting it was me, and secretly I am enjoying the entertainment--at this point I could sure use it. Some of us haven't really known each other very well outside of our professional involvement thus far, but suddenly there is an intense kinship which has formed; an intimacy wrought of no going back. The phrase "rallying up the troops" is no longer simply a metaphor, for now it truly is like being in 'Nam together--what we've been through, no one will be able to take away. We are peeing with the door open, walking around without deodarant on and unrestrainedly freaking out in front of anyone who happens to be around at the wrong moment. Any little victory seems momentous, and I am count them off like teeth on a necklace. When I do finally manage to fall asleep, I dream of buying time machines off the internet and at this point my body is still processing so much coffee I have to wake up every hour and a half to pee.

DAY 5:
By the fifth day the rest of the real world as I've known it has ceased to exist. I am now probably so sleep deprived I am capable of performing some sort of David Blaine-esque bodily deprivation act. Put me on a pillar in the middle of Union Square, set up a desk and make sure I have the opportunity to lose my cell phone, wallet, address book, and all other vitally important items at least three times in succession before being able to get down to real business for the enjoyment of the audience. Now that's authenticity! There she is folks, the unsleeping, still wholly-producing woman! I wouldn't mind a gaping audience, in fact, I wouldn't even know what was going on. Right now in my head there remains only me, my project, and anyone not pertinent to Getting It Done does not really exist. I am almost half crazy with details--it is the details which drown you in the end, which grab ahold of you and don't let go. The bigger picture remains solid and silently proud, despite the fact that it doesn't even exist outside of your head in reality yet. Cocky little sucker.

DAY 6:
It is the sixth day. At some point I decide it is a wiser idea to exit my liar in search of food rather than just order delivery again. Perhaps this change of pace will lead to a grand revelation? Further evidence of almost complete regression back to my most basic primordial instincts of hunting and gathering may be observed as I believe I may be snarling and/or grunting at the whiff of burnt mozzarella as I pass by a pizza joint. I am prowling the streets with an untamed bedhead bouffant and wearing whatever I happened to fall asleep in from the night before, or should I say, this day's early morning hours. Pity the fool who dare make passing eye contact with this brazen beast. What, you are looking at me? Yes I am in the middle of editing a fashion magazine. What's it to you?

DAY ....?:
What day is it again?  I have no idea what's going on outside of the five tasks that MUST be completed TODAY for the project to finally be finished. I haven't received any quality sleep (or sustenance) for so long now that when I happen to accidentally zoom in on a segment of patterned curtain I actually start tripping. I am vaguely aware of someone trying to communicate with me in the background but I can't turn my neck...Dude! This is incredible! You have GOT to come over here....

......hours later slumped over in any available contraption that will support my body weight, half conscious and quickly fading into a long-deserved slumber, already with a faint whiff of pre-mature nostalgia for the whole affair...aware only that I finally...thankfully...Got It Done....