As I step outside the sounds of horns and car engines immediately flood my ears. Once again I am leaving the house to do my obligatory errands. The looks my cats give me immediately make me stop and wonder if I should just stay home. Knowing that I must be home no later than 6:30 for the new episode of The Golden Girls, I decide that if I venture out it must be now or never. Living in Murray Hill is so entertaining that I often go to the park and people watch. On my way to the library I take Subway line G. I watch as the flocks of people going up and down the subway stairs. I see a women trip and fall all the way down.

I get off the subway and see a lady sleeping on one of the subway benches that seems really uncomfortable. She had short brown hair that she had tied up and stuffed into a hat. A newspaper lay  across her stomach just about to fall off. I wanted to wake up her up because she seemed like she was just wasting her day away.

I return my library books and decide to take a break at a cafe across the street. I sit down and have a cup of coffee. It’s rush hour and all the booths are filled with tourist and workers on break. I sit at the bar, right by the kitchen door. There is a birthday party with little children. The presents are piling up on one side of the table. All the parents talk about their children and how they are doing in school. Next to the presents is a baby in a highchair squirming around. No one is watching him and he wiggles out of his chair and hit his head.

Shortly after I get my coffee, a woman sits down in the seat next to me. She seems to be on a lunch break. She eagerly flags down the waitress to order her food. Sipping my coffee, I try not to stare as she eats the whole plate without stopping for a break. She starts to choke, there is a doctor in the cafe who gives her heimlich.  

Outside the cafe seems to be where all the couples are sitting. Some of the tables had bouquets of flowers others had boxes of chocolates. One couple at the end proposed and they were now vigorously kissing eachother, making everyone else uncomfortable.

As I walk down 3rd Ave there is a group of tourists strolling down the street. They take up the whole sidewalk so I decide to walk on the other side of the street and cut through the park. When I get to the other side I hear a lady in the group scream out, “He took my wallet!”. When the cars cleared I see man in a beanie running away with one of the tourist’s wallets.

I start to walk through St. Vartan Park, and people sitting on benches watching the runners go by. The playground is full of kids on slides and swings playing tag and “lava”. In the far corner of the park is a water fountain with benches around it. The kids playing in the fountain and splash in the puddles.

Across the way,workers are cutting the branches of the trees in the park. The saw makes a loud, annoying, noise.

On my last stop before my walk back home, I stop at the office supplies store on 3rd. They are having a huge sale because they are closing soon and I decide to take a look. As I rummage through the sale bins I find a new notebook, a letter opening, and a pack of tacks.

Two blocks away from my apartment I walk past the local pub when I am startled by yelling. Suddenly, out of nowhere two men fly out of the bar all over each other throwing punches. The bartender runs out and tells them they are not allowed back there again. I watch far on the other side of the road as the taxis whisk by. The two men settle down and walk away from each other.

Finally, I arrive at my doorstep, greeted by my lovely cats who eagerly awaited my arrival. I turn on the TV and switch to NBC, I have exactly 15 minutes before the new episode will start. I put some white toast in the toaster oven and sit on the couch and wait. As it begins to snow, the flakes pile up on the windowpane as it quietly begins to snow.

Suddenly, I wake up to the smell of smoke and frantic cries from my cats. I panic, but slowly calm down when I realize its just my toast, that is now burnt black since I forgot about it. Luckily, I woke up right before Golden Girls starts, all is well.

I decide to pass on the toast and opt for tea instead. Sitting back in my chair, I begin to hum along to the Golden Girls theme song. Mr. Whiskers is now pawing at my sock. What could it possibly be now. As I look down at my feet where Mr. Whiskers has sat, I am greeted by not one but two huge dead rats. Although I feel slightly bad for the rats, I thank Mr. Whiskers for the gift and proceed to dispose of them outside.

I quickly run back upstairs to the TV. I am relieved that I have only missed the first 3 minutes of the new episode and it is now on commercials. Looking at my tea I realise earl grey might not cut it and I pour myself a glass of gin and look back on the whole day.

Whether it be childrens books or magazine covers, illustration is incorporated into our everyday lives more than we think. Illustration is a broad field and can be used in various areas of work giving you the option to work alone or for a company. Acrylic, oil, and pen just scratch the surface of the many mediums used in the illustration field. Edward Gorey is a widely known twentieth century illustrator born in Chicago, Illinois. He experienced success at a young age when his cartoon was published in the local newspaper where he grew up and even more when he went to Harvard University. Known for his book “The Unstrung Harp,” his small but very intricate pen and ink drawings create a dark and whimsical universe. Many refer to Gorey’s work as macabre, a word he wouldn't agree with. But however you describe his work, there is no doubt his creativity is boundless, even when thinking he spends many of his days by himself inside with his many cats. Gorey finds a sense of comfort in making bean bags while watching “The Golden Girls” on TV, or when he makes the white toast with cinnamon to  offer to anyone who comes over for a visit. These little things make it  easy to think due to his introvert characteristics that not going out much could stunt his creativity. Even though Edward Gorey was considered a “recluse” throughout his life, his lack of leaving the house did not result in him living anything but a fulfilled life.

Edward Gorey was considered a very melancholic man. Even in his college years at Harvard University with Frank O’Hara, a famous writer, poet, and art critic he was known as the quieter of the two. Although O’Hara and Gorey were known for throwing the best parties in Mower Hall, Gorey was still the mellower of the two, usually opting to stay in the dorm when it came to social gathering. Gorey was later asked about this time period in his life and he replied “All of us were obsessed. Obsessed by what? Ourselves, I expect.” College often makes people feel older than they really are due to being in a different environment than they were previously. Gorey being “obsessed” with himself could've been a blessing in disguise, giving him crucial time to develop his quality of work and brainstorm ideas for potential pieces. Many of the drawings he did during this time were later refined and used in his published books. Drawing was where Gorey felt most solace.

    Edward Gorey’s inspiration could have easily been influenced by the TV shows, books, movies, and plays he watched. He was known to never miss a New York Ballet performance or an episode from the ABC Soap Opera series “All my Children,” two things Gorey took very seriously in his life. If he wasn't making an appearance at the theater in his long fur coat and white sneakers or sewing hacky sacks while watching the TV, he could be found at the movie theater, by himself. Alexander Theroux, one of Gorey’s close friends said in an interview; “Edward was one of the few people I ever knew who did exactly what he wanted”, “he went his own way.” Edward Gorey went against the grain and did as he pleased, as long as it made him happy, he would do it without exceptions. He absorbed all the arts and culture he immersed himself in and used it to feed the creativity that showed prominently in his work.

Gorey’s personality and lifestyle choices showed and contributed to his art. Besides his six cats, to whom he felt closer than his friends, a different side of Gorey would emerge at the ring of a doorbell. Theroux would talk about his visits with Gorey and how although he would talk to him in a quiet melancholic tone, the minute a fan would ring the doorbell his personality would lighten up immediately. “You never knew what Edward would show up. He had many sides” says Theroux. It was easy to see that Gorey’s mind was always going, always in one place and then another. "He would sew beanbags while he watched television," Theroux says of Gorey's eclectic habits. "He went to the movies almost every night. He could segue from reading a book on Wittgenstein to watching The Golden Girls. He was curious about everything, which is a great virtue in a person. He needed to have a lot of movement in his mind, a lot of water going over the stones in his mind." From what Gorey displayed, his creativity and art was often similar to this. The small characters and creatures he was known for in his books would radiate his personality.

Edward Gorey was a recluse but liked the satisfaction of knowing others enjoyed his work. He enjoyed it so much he even had himself listed in the New York phonebook, open for fans to call him anytime of the day. "He was a very poor hermit," says Theroux. "Goth people would flock over there — and he would say, 'We've got customers.' They'd say, 'I love your work!' and start gushing, and he'd say, 'Thank you ... now what?' But he was always very accessible, and people would always stop over to see him.” Gorey seemed to be torn between having time to himself to draw and sonder yet craved the recognition of the hours of hard work he poured into his work. Being alone seemed to make Gorey happy, it was a time for him to solely focus on the world he created in his books and in his head although he also wanted to feel connected with his surroundings.

    Gorey’s life decisions showed his creative independence strongly. Shortly after returning from World War II, Gorey enrolled at The Chicago Art Institute, which he later dropped out of during the first semester. Shortly after, he began his degree in French at Harvard University. His dear friend Theroux described Gorey as “a true free spirit; a curious, kind and adventurous soul,” "Edward was one of the few people I ever knew who did exactly what he wanted," he says, "He went his own way." Gorey displays how independence and trust in oneself can be beneficial when you have ambition and desire. It was easy to see that even though he went “against the grain” and did what others may have been hesitant to do.

Whether it’s admiration for his writing lines, or drawing lines, Edward Gorey is truly an idol for people in a creative line of work. His creativity shows us that it is not just about experiencing a bunch of different things but about immersing yourself in things you enjoy even if you are the only one doing them. Gorey's work has inspired many artists we see today. Whether it be the whimsical scenery of Tim Burton movies, or the dark humorous characters in Lemony Snicket, Gorey’s life was dedicated to his work which gave him the opportunity to live his life and many others through his books.

NPR Staff. "The Life of Edward Gorey, Told by an Old Friend." NPR. N.p., 19 Feb. 2011. Web.29Jan.2015.<http://www.npr.org/2011/02/20/133869853/the-life-of-edward-gorey-told-by-an-old-friend>.

“The Life of Edward Gorey, Told by an Old Friend” is a piece written by the MPR staff with collaboration by writer Alexander Theroux who not only wrote a book about Gorey shortly after he died, but was one of his very close friends. Through out the article Theroux talks about Edward Gorey’s fascination with pen and ink and the creepy “melancholy” that can be seen through his work. We learn about one reason for his work being strictly in black and white due to the difficulties of publishing colored books in the 1950’s. Theroux also shares more personal things about gorey like his favorite phrase; “I dont even know” and the joy he found in sewing beanbags while watching Tv soap operas like “All my children”. This article clearly honors Edward Gorey’s life and gives us an insight on him on a more personal level.

Lumenello, Susan. "Edward Gorey." Harvard Magazine. N.p., Mar. 2007. Web. 29 Jan. 2015. <http://harvardmagazine.com/2007/03/edward-gorey.html>.

In Harvard Magazine’s article on Edward Gorey we are given a more personal look into the early years of edward gorey’s life and the small quirks that makes him the eccentric artist that he was. The article talks about Gorey being born and raised in chicago, illinois and briefly covers his draft into World War II. We learn about his college roommate Writer, Poet, and Art Critic Frank O’Hara and the huge parties they would throw at Harvard University Together. Gorey came up with many of his drawings during his time at harvard which he then years later would refine. It also briefly talks about how he would have 6 cats at a time and the raccoons that he graciously allowed to lived in his attic.

Society of Illustrators. N.p., 2012. Web. 29 Jan. 2015. <http://www.societyillustrators.org/

Awards-and-Competitions/Hall-of-Fame/Past-Inductees/2012--Edward-Gorey.aspx>.

The Society of Illustrators is a 114 year old organization that has been devoted to appreciating the history of the always growing field of Illustration. In this piece about Edward Gorey we learn about his earlier successes like having a comic piece in the local newspaper at only 13 years old and about his impact on the beginning on the graphic novel moment. After the Army, Gorey enrolled in the The Art Institute of Chicago and then into Harvard. Through out his illustration career, many of his books have been translated into as many as 15 different languages.

Dery, Mark. "Nightside Is Growing like Weeds." The New York Times. N.p., 2 Mar. 2011. Web.29Jan2015.<http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/06/arts/design/06gorey.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0>.

In The New York Times “Nightshade is growing like weeds” they strictly talk about goreys career as an artist and very little on his personal life. Through out the article he is described as the “master of macabre” a word Gorey himself said he hated being described with. We learn Lemony Snicket's envy for Edward gorey and how he considered himself to be a “complete rip off of Edward Gorey” at the time him was writing his well known book “A series of Unfortunate Events”. This article also talks about the “obvious debt” Tim Burton owes to Edward Gorey, whether he admits it or not.

Edward Gorey. N.p., n.d. Web. 29 Jan. 2015.<http://www.nybooks.com/books/imprints/classics/men-and-gods/>.

New York Review Books is an accredited online book review site that talks about various fiction and nonfiction novels and writers. On their brief article about Edward Gorey it talks about a him being more of a writer than an artist. The article talks about Gorey being known how hand letting his type and his talent in capturing snippets of “his whole little personal world”. Near the end of the article it talks about the enormous library gorey that is now in possession of San Diego State. The University is know to hold 25,000 books from his personal library along with an impressive collection of Gorey’s books as well.

As I step outside the sounds of horns and car engines immediately flood my ears. Once again I am leaving the house to do my obligatory errands. The looks my cats give me immediately make me stop and wonder if I should just stay home. Knowing that I must be home no later than 6:30 for the new episode of The Golden Girls, I decide that if I venture out it must be now or never. Living in Murray Hill is so entertaining that I often go to the park and people watch. On my way to the library I take Subway line G. I watch as the flocks of people going up and down the subway stairs. I see a women trip and fall all the way down.

I get off the subway and see a lady sleeping on one of the subway benches that seems really uncomfortable. She had short brown hair that she had tied up and stuffed into a hat. A newspaper lay  across her stomach just about to fall off. I wanted to wake up her up because she seemed like she was just wasting her day away.

I return my library books and decide to take a break at a cafe across the street. I sit down and have a cup of coffee. It’s rush hour and all the booths are filled with tourist and workers on break. I sit at the bar, right by the kitchen door. There is a birthday party with little children. The presents are piling up on one side of the table. All the parents talk about their children and how they are doing in school. Next to the presents is a baby in a highchair squirming around. No one is watching him and he wiggles out of his chair and hit his head.

Shortly after I get my coffee, a woman sits down in the seat next to me. She seems to be on a lunch break. She eagerly flags down the waitress to order her food. Sipping my coffee, I try not to stare as she eats the whole plate without stopping for a break. She starts to choke, there is a doctor in the cafe who gives her heimlich.  

Outside the cafe seems to be where all the couples are sitting. Some of the tables had bouquets of flowers others had boxes of chocolates. One couple at the end proposed and they were now vigorously kissing eachother, making everyone else uncomfortable.

As I walk down 3rd Ave there is a group of tourists strolling down the street. They take up the whole sidewalk so I decide to walk on the other side of the street and cut through the park. When I get to the other side I hear a lady in the group scream out, “He took my wallet!”. When the cars cleared I see man in a beanie and coat running away with one of the tourist’s wallets.

I start to walk through St. Vartan Park, and people sitting on benches watching the runners go by. The playground is full of kids on slides and swings playing tag and “lava”. In the far corner of the park is a water fountain with benches around it. The kids playing in the fountain and splash in the puddles.

Across the way,workers are cutting the branches of the trees in the park. The saw makes a loud, annoying, noise.

On my last stop before my walk back home, I stop at the office supplies store on 3rd. They are having a huge sale because they are closing soon and I decide to take a look. As I rummage through the sale bins I find a new notebook, a letter opening, and a pack of tacks.

Two blocks away from my apartment I walk past the local pub when I am startled by yelling. Suddenly, out of nowhere two men fly out of the bar all over each other throwing punches. The bartender runs out and tells them they are not allowed back there again. I watch far on the other side of the road as the taxis whisk by. The two men settle down and walk away from each other.

Finally, I arrive at my doorstep, greeted by my lovely cats who eagerly awaited my arrival. I turn on the TV and switch to NBC, I have exactly 15 minutes before the new episode will start. I put some white toast in the toaster oven and sit on the couch and wait. As it begins to snow, the flakes pile up on the windowpane as it quietly begins to snow.

Suddenly, I wake up to the smell of smoke and frantic cries from my cats. I panic, but slowly calm down when I realize its just my toast, that is now burnt black since I forgot about it. Luckily, I woke up right before Golden Girls starts, all is well.

I decide to pass on the toast and opt for tea instead. Sitting back in my chair, I begin to hum along to the Golden Girls theme song. Mr. Whiskers is now pawing at my sock. What could it possibly be now. As I look down at my feet where Mr. Whiskers has sat, I am greeted by not one but two huge dead rats. Although I feel slightly bad for the rats, I thank Mr. Whiskers for the gift and proceed to dispose of them outside.

I quickly run back upstairs to the TV. I am relieved that I have only missed the first 3 minutes of the new episode and it is now on commercials. Looking at my tea I realise earl grey might not cut it and I pour myself a glass of gin and look back on the whole day.