Starbucks and I have had a very tumultuous relationship for several years now.

It started back in college, when cash-poor me would save my quarters to indulge in mochas during class breaks.

It was at a sad time in my life that I didn’t realize liquids could have calories. (This overlapped, thus, with the margarita phase.)

As I became more health-conscious, Starbucks was right alongside me, introducing the “skinny” latte. And behold my elation when I found out sugar-free skim vanilla lattes were a welcome and accepted part of the South Beach Diet dairy allowance?

As I went through various levels of employ, I graduated to a Starbucks card, and then a Starbucks Visa…and just last week joined the Rewards program. (Which allows me to sit, right at this second, in a Starbucks a few blocks from my home enjoying free wi-fi.)

Of course, our relationship has had its down moments, such as a few months ago when they forgot to put espresso in my latte, or the unfortunate times I’ve requested (and paid for) soy but got skim. But that happens. People who loves one-another disappoint each other all the time.

I have to say now, especially with the current overwhelming passion of free iced coffee Wednesdays, free rewards refills, and free wifi…we are in a better place than we’ve been for as long as we’ve been together. And because of that, the blurb I just read on Gothamist has me a little choked up. (And I’m pretty sure it’s not cause I semi-swallowed an ice cube.)

Starbucks has announced it’s closing 600 stores in the U.S., bringing the total number down to approximately 9 gazillion, most of them located in Astor Place. Stocks have fallen 24% so far this year, and its second quarter was its weakest as a public company. The Seattle-based chain says it will try to relocate employees to other stores, but thousands of layoffs loom. Financial analyst Sharon Zackfia tells the Times, “I don’t think it’s overly surprising. These stores were in aggregate unprofitable.” No word yet on how many NYC Starbucks locations will close, but one hopes it’s kept to a minimum, because where else will we use the bathroom?

Granted, this will likely not impact my life…and it’s quite possible that said closings will be in bumble America and not near me. I suppose I should think of those thousands of people losing their jobs…but I’m sorry. What about MY needs? Just yesterday, I was elated over my rewards membership allowing me free wi-fi at 7,000 Starbucks nationwide. And now, I find out, it may only be 6,400??? And what if it’s the beginning of a trend? What if before we know it…Starbucks…and all the wonderful things the world has gotten from them…is gone???

What about MY work? What about our history…and build up drink credits…and meaningful barista-caffeine-addicted customer relationship? What about my free rewards-milk-and-syrup upgrades???

Sigh. I need a moment. Go tell your barista you love them before it’s too late.

My new favorite quote:

“Email is such a funny thing. People hand you these single little messages that are no heavier than a river pebble. But it doesn’t take long until you have acquired a pile of pebbles that’s taller than you and heavier than you could ever hope to move, even if you wanted to do it over a few dozen trips. But for the person who took the time to hand you their pebble, it seems outrageous that you can’t handle that one tiny thing. “What ‘pile’? It’s just a pebble!”

- Merlin Mann, a software usability expert, quoted in Clay Shirky’s Here Comes Everyone

As someone who is currently being stoned to death by said pebbles, it’s good to feel understood!

I just drove a VW Beetle in Key Largo!!!

(Pix to come. I must go up to the roof to singe my flesh at a pool party. Alas.)

May I just say, I know little about cars…but even I know this one feels better than anything else I’ve ever driven. As do “Beetle Juice” cocktails (which I am currently sipping…)

Oh, and to people who have mocked my job as less real than theirs? Well, you are sitting there grumpy and miserable staring at a clock. Look where I am.

Not that I’m bragging or anything.

Greetings, friends.

As I am inherently OCD, I am currently sitting in the boarding area of my flight to Miami…3 hours before it takes off, munching on an (overpriced) bagel and coffee.

(Life’s small pleasures.)

Frustratingly, wi-fi is not free in this terminal, and I had to purchase a day pass. In order to make said day pass a business expense, please allow me to share the tale of why I am going to Miami this fine (rainy, bleary) day.

A few weeks ago, I received an email from VW (Yes, the beetle people!). Apparently, this week is the beetle’s birthday - and the company is celebrating by inviting a handful of editors to South Beach for a few days of fun in the sun. On the itinerary is what I have been calling the “10 pounds in 3 days” plan - each day includes dining at celebarazzi restaurants, “cocktailing” and beach parties. Plus, I get to drive around in a beetle tomorrow afternoon!

As the only way I could mentally negotiate jumping ship for half the week was to consider it work, I shall be blogging live-action updates daily. (Perhaps while brimming with Champagne) - including photos! (Said will not happen while wearing a bathing suit.)

For now, I must go wander through this Duty-Free thing…

NYPIRG representative just rang my door bell, presenting a petition for me to sign.

As I was briefly a NYPIRG member in college, and said organization has done some pretty awesome things, I figured there was no harm in listening, and signing what he presented. (Especially since the whole platform seemed to make sense to me.)

Apparently, doing so made me look like a potential comrade.

“You know, for a small donation, you can become a member.”

“Thanks…I’m happy to sign, but I can’t make a donation right now.”

“Oh come on? Even a small one?”

“No, sorry. But I am signing…”

“Maybe just a $30 donation? Would that work?”

“No…I have no money to donate today.”

“We take checks!”

“Sorry.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Oh really? For who?”

“Well, sort of for myself…”

“Oh.” (Audible pause during which I swear he looked at me with sympathy!) “I understand. Well, have a good night!”

Talk about career of dubious distinction.

You may have not got a glimpse yet, but Staples has gone fashionista. M by Staples is a new line of designer stationary and organizational materials - meant to train our brains into order.

The concept? Perhaps boring beige folders will not entice us to actually file our papers. But polka dotted ones? Or journals in hot pink patent leather? Maybe so. The message is, if we like the products we use to keep our lives in order, we may actually use them.

I did not come up with this concept myself - I was invited last night to an organizational seminar led by Donna Smallin (an organizational expert and author of more than a half dozen books on organizing your life). The tips she gave made so much sense, I just may follow them. (And it has nothing to do with my being woo’d with aforementioned pink patent leather desk accessories).

Donna explains you can free up space by archiving old projects in tax files in cardboard, stackable boxes

Are you a “piler” or a “filer”? Donna explains that for pilers, you can still organize your space, in particularly with stylish, heavy-duty folders, such as those in the M by Staples collection.

Springtime is the perfect time for organizing! Donna explains, “It’s important to choose organizing tools you love because the more you like it, the more likely you will use it.” Donna recommends carrying the right business essentials, and never underestimate the value of matching accessories — they can actually serve to reduce visual distraction while being pleasing to the eye.

She went on to quote Maya Angelou saying, “People will forget what you said. They will forget what you did. But they will never forget how you made them feel.” Donna suggests always to keep note cards handy, whether it’s elegant stationery with embossed monogram or a patterned note card like these from the M by Staples Stationery collection. I make a note to get me said stationary. Preferably in pink.

There is a frightening article in the New York Times about how the hours/stress of being an at-home web writer is literally killing people!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/technology/06sweat.html

Imagine, death by blogging? Who would have thought it! I definitely feel entitled to my nightly glass of wine now.

“I am not a whore, I am an accomplished self-pimp.”

(So read a newspaper comic I read earlier today.)

To understand this phrase is to understand the ups, downs, and hilarity of the life of the self-employed (or independent contractor, as Uncle Sam likes to call it before wallet-molesting me).

How fun it can be though!

This month has been riddled with stories from various jobs I cannot even begin to go into. (Sadly, the bad part about having a popular blog is that everyone you know reads it!) But an anecdote from a most-recent occurrence:

There is a national teen magazine whose office I visit about twice a month to do some final proof line edits. They are a small, but nice staff, and while we always have scheduling conflicts (i.e.: Book me for eight hours and end up using - and paying me - for five, never have a computer available for me, stet my most obvious and important edits), it’s a pretty stress-less gig, and in close proximity to all my favorite shopping and caffeination.

Today though, there was an occurrence that while inconsequential to the day or the work, added yet another notch in my need-to-create-a-reality-tv-show belt. This office happens to share a floor bathroom with three other office suites. I, of the small bladder, pee often. This effort of finding and visiting various local rest rooms is actually among my main sources of daily exercise.

This morning, after finishing my (venti! it was an early morning) vanilla soy latte, I go to normal spot in the office to grab the bathroom key. It’s not there. As it’s an office riddled with similar caffeine and hydration ho’s, it’s fair to assume it’s in use.

A few minutes later, I come back, it’s still not there.

Hmm. Either someone DIED in there (in which case I’ll just hold it in), or there’s something funny going on.

Deciding to put my prime journalistic skills to the test, I pay a visit to a girl in a nearby cubicle. (We recently bonded after discovering we have identical pink BlackBerry Pearls. I am hopeful this means she’ll also share my feelings on issues related to bladders and emptying thereof.)

“Hey, where is the bathroom key kept now?”

(It’s been moved before, I realize this is a possible explanation.)

“Oh, we lost it a few days ago. You have to go to another office and ask for theirs.”

Um, hello? I suppose it’s better than being told to visit the Starbucks up the block. (Which would likely put a strain on our just-rekindled relationship.)

Let it be noted, this has led to my - for reasons of time economy and convenience - drinking less water today. And thus, may have compromised the very well-being of my internal workings. All for a few hours with a red pen and a pile of proofs and no PM cup of Gingko IQ tea (that too sacrificed in the bladder maintenance attempt).

Whore, indeed.

I notice an interesting warring reality between those people with office jobs and freelancers.

(Aside from the fact that many of such will refer to the former as a “real job”.)

For those of you who believe you have a real job, vs. those of us who work in our PJs and set our own hours, let me inflect a little comparison upon you.

A - For many of you clock-punchers, you work 9-5 or 10-6, and are done with work the second that clock strikes. This remains true even if you spent all day on MySpace, or in IM complaining how bored you are. You will get paid for *being there*, and not for your actual degree of productivity.

(Of course, that productivity may determine how long you actually *keep* said job.)

For us without a “real” job, we have not the luxury of said clock. Project to be done? We work until it’s finished. Sure, we may spend our afternoons in coffee houses with lattes on couches, but our work is not done until the task before us is completed. That remains true if we work a 2-hour day, or a 10-hour day. Goofing off only causes us more work.

B - Vacation? Ha! We don’t work, we don’t get paid. Same goes for oddities like…being sick.

I’m interested to know how many of you freelancers vs. traditional-jobbers feel about this. Recently, while out with a friend, I commented I had to head home (it was around 11 p.m., and I had a magazine I was editing on deadline), and she commented, “You work in your PJs, that doesn’t count.”

Note, this is a girl who spends her days shopping on eBay, planning her happy hours, and leaves on the crack of six.

Another friend, who is currently looking for a job, is saying I couldn’t possibly understand her hell because she has to work all day at an office, always on the go.

Yep. Couldn’t imagine!

I believe that a large part of the issue is the difference between those who work for someone else, or are working on something of their own. Further, if you are in a creative industry where head-butting takes place all the time. A huge conflict begins to arise between those who work for the money - and those who work toward something. Whether it’s creating your own thing, or just making a difference (not to sound hokey!), it creates a separation between you and your friend who is just staring at that clock until they get that pay check.

So, share, do many of you go through similar misunderstandings? How do you help your friends and family who are in the dark to see the light?

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Today, I shall do my taxes.

Thank god there’s alcohol involved in my evening plans.