tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18355374379267496332024-02-20T10:23:18.415-08:00Orchids & Casseroles <b>Because life should be filled with beauty and comfort.</b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-61297340674928572502013-12-02T13:34:00.000-08:002013-12-02T13:34:04.898-08:00It's A...So did we or didn't we <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/11/gender-bias.html">decide to find out</a>?<br />
<br />
The short answer: we did. But how we got to that decision wasn't quite as short.<br />
<br />
We got to the appointment and, as expected, the ultrasound tech asked if we wanted to know the sex. I still hadn't made up my mind, so I asked if she could write it down for us. (Quickly adding that we weren't doing one of those trendy gender reveal parties, we just weren't sure what we wanted to do yet.) She said she'd do us one better: she'd print us a photo and type it on that.<br />
<br />
She told us to close our eyes, and I intently listened for the number of keystrokes as she typed. She put the photo in an envelope, we wrapped things up, and then we left.<br />
<br />
We decided to grab lunch, and continued to sit on the envelope, asking each other all throughout the meal, "What do you want to do?" "I'm not sure, what do <i>you</i> want to do?"<br />
<br />
We both were hedging, but I think Jay was just being sensitive to my indecision, since I knew he wanted to find out from the very beginning. Finally we realized, <i>who are we kidding?</i> and we opened the envelope. And? It's a boy!<br />
<br />
Of course, we would have been happy either way, but before we opened the envelope, both of us had talked about how we had a "feeling" it was a boy. (What's more, one look at the sonogram photo of the baby's face, and you could tell it took after its father.) <br />
<br />
Now admittedly, I was a bit disappointed that I wouldn't be buying cute dresses in the near future, but at least now the two of us can focus on coming up with some names, and <i>I</i> can focus my worries on things like this...<br />
<br />
<center>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/TGjjK5SMbJA" width="560"></iframe></center>
<br />
...instead of things like this:<br />
<br />
<center>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3szlAYwhLK8" width="560"></iframe></center>
writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-28912287458986817682013-11-19T17:35:00.000-08:002013-11-19T17:37:34.030-08:00Gender Bias<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNAXliNRRAewcsvglR9SEJoCc2H3jFjTrsmjk26J_jlNkt6AAbMW7RWbG8cgPhMb0144acxXMkHw0RCPlhwxgvwmlf3zE3jBz6v5bK5NVPB2GFUWDr2CWftigeuuEgqvTPkaarFmTwc8/s1600/boy_girl_symbols.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNAXliNRRAewcsvglR9SEJoCc2H3jFjTrsmjk26J_jlNkt6AAbMW7RWbG8cgPhMb0144acxXMkHw0RCPlhwxgvwmlf3zE3jBz6v5bK5NVPB2GFUWDr2CWftigeuuEgqvTPkaarFmTwc8/s200/boy_girl_symbols.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Admit it: Everyone has one. Even you. Which is why I need your help.<br />
<br />
Next week, we go for the 20-week ultrasound where we can find out the baby's gender. Jay wants to know. I am unsure.<br />
<br />
Before I got pregnant, I was adamant about <i>not</i> finding out my future baby's gender, thinking of the in-the-moment reveal as one of life's truly great surprises. But you can be just as surprised when the ultrasound tech tells you, Jay argues. (He's always so logical. I hate it.) But now that I'm approaching that moment, I'm not so sure where I stand. It's like when I was shopping for a wedding dress: I thought I wanted cap-sleeved lace, but wound up with strapless silk. Point being, you never really know how you're going to feel until you get there. Which might be where my new-found ambivalence on the matter comes from. <br />
<br />
That's not to say I want to know now; I'm still intrigued by the idea of not finding out. But with no nursery to decorate, and the fact that we are having a really hard time agreeing on names, you could argue that the <i>logical</i> thing to do is to find out. But you could also argue that there is something really great about <i>not</i> being logical about it -- probably one of the last times for a looooong time that we'll be able to ignore the reasonable choice and just see what happens.<br />
<br />
So. My question to you...<br />
<br />
<b>Do we find out, or do we not? Deadline for responses is 7 p.m. ET Monday. </b><br />
<br />
Photo: <a href="http://themielkeway.net/2011/06/28/boy-or-girl/" target="_blank">The Mielke Way</a>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-22340865529753114302013-11-14T18:35:00.000-08:002013-11-14T18:39:28.580-08:00Can We Kick It?Last Friday was my birthday, and can you believe the baby knew to get me a gift? (Actually, are we really all <i>that</i> surprised that my kid is on top of things?)<br />
<br />
I have been saying since the start that aside from my now-huge boobs, there have been very little outward signs that I'm pregnant. In fact, I've often said how I wish I could be like Tom Cruise allegedly was when Katie Holmes was pregnant with Suri and get <a href="http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20171033,00.html" target="_blank">my own sonogram machine</a>, just so I could make sure the kid is still in there. (S)he has been <i>that</i> chill.<br />
<br />
But on Saturday night, I felt <i>something</i>. Like a bubble popping. (Gas, maybe?) But then I felt it again as I lay in bed Sunday morning. Yep, that was definitely a kick. It was exciting and cute, and a very welcome sign of life. (S)he was really kicking it on Wednesday night, and Jay got a feel. (You can't beat the smile on his face every time the kid makes an appearance.)<br />
<br />
So, it's starting to feel real -- <i>finally</i>. Though I'm still in a state of disbelief that this is actually happening. Even though I literally want to bury my head in the sand every time someone says, "You're halfway there!" I'm pretty confident that when the time comes, we'll be able to kick it together. writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-15726978322343016652013-10-22T15:51:00.000-07:002013-10-22T15:51:15.200-07:00Your Burning Baby Questions, AnsweredSince the baby news broke, I've been fielding <i>a lot</i> of questions. Herewith, are my answers: <br />
<br />
<b>1. How did you find out you were pregnant?</b><br />
This requires a little back story. A few days before we left for a vacation with Jay’s family in Hilton Head, I had gone in for some blood work with my doctor. They called pretty quickly and said I needed to come in. After some back and forth leaving messages and whatnot, we finally connected during a drive back from the Tanger outlets, where I had just scored a $400 Coach bag for $140. (Sorry, had to brag about that.) I said I was on vacation and anxiously asked, "<i>Why the urgency? What did the blood work show?</i>" "You’re pregnant," the nurse said, seemingly as shocked as I was about to be. "<i>Whaaat?!</i>" was my reaction, and I immediately pulled into the first parking lot available. Jay was with me, and from the big grin on his face I could tell he knew what the nurse had just told me. She said it was very early, about 4-5 weeks, and that I needed to be very careful, and I needed to come in first thing when we got home. Yes, yes, yes, I replied. We hung up, I articulated to Jay what he already knew, and we got out of the car to celebrate. I then made him drive home, where I proceeded to worry about all the things I had done in the last few weeks that you’re not supposed to do when you’re pregnant, like eat cured meats, drink, and go through the x-ray scanner at the airport.<br />
<br />
<b>2. How did your parents react?</b><br />
Because we found out so early, we were hesitant to tell anyone, but because we happened to be in Hilton Head with all of Jay’s family—who we likely wouldn’t see again until Thanksgiving—we decided to tell them. Having never done this before, we weren’t sure how to go about it, and so as we were sitting outside after dinner, Jay blurted out, "So Mom, funny story…" and reiterated the day’s events. "Jason, that’s not funny," she reprimanded him. (Even at 33, the use of your full name is never a good sign.) It took about 30 seconds to convince her that he was, in fact, telling the truth, and then all, of course, were joyous.<br />
<br />
We got home on a Friday and decided to go to my parents’ that Saturday to tell them. Christmas is kind of a big deal in my family. We make an annual pilgrimage to Pennsylvania to cut down our Christmas tree, and my dad especially loves the holiday, so before we left Hilton Head, we visited one of those year-round Christmas shops where I picked up an ornament that had two snow people holding a sign that said "Best Grandparents." Once we arrived and settled into lunch, I gave a gift bag to my mom and said, "We picked you up something in Hilton Head." She opened it, and looked a bit puzzled. "Is this for real?" she asked. My dad, previously disinterested, asked to see what it was. "Really?" he said. For those of you who know my parents, you won’t be surprised to hear that my mom cried (happy tears, of course) and that my dad almost immediately made some reference about how he can’t wait to rough the kid up.<br />
<br />
<b>3. How do you feel?</b><br />
Absolutely fine! I’ve had zero morning sickness, and aside from being a little more tired than usual in the first few months, there are no other obvious signs I’m pregnant. Four months in and this kid's been so chill that I'm pretty sure I could have been on an episode of <i>I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant</i>, or as Jay likes to call it, <i>Oops I Crapped a Baby</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>4. Do you have any cravings?</b><br />
Not really. If anything, I’m eating more carbs than I normally would, but I can't tell if that's a true craving or me just easing up on my everyday low-carb diet a bit. <br />
<br />
<b>5. Any names?</b><br />
A few. But nothing that really has us excited yet. <br />
<br />
<b>6. Are you moving?</b><br />
Not for the time being. When we first found out I was pregnant, I still didn’t have a job, and so the idea of leaving our rent-stabilized place didn’t make sense. And now that I do have a job, it still doesn’t make much sense, mostly because every time we start looking around we realize what a good deal we really do have. Call us idealists, but we’ve done lots of research on raising a baby in a one-bedroom apartment (and have talked to people who’ve done it) and it seems the key is minimalism. And in case we have a crier, I intend to make our upstairs neighbor a lot of cookies. Still, once the kid is more mobile, I’m sure we’ll be forced to rethink this approach. <br />
<br />
<b>7. Will you find out the sex?</b><br />
This one has been an epic debate between Jay and I for quite some time. I’ve always maintained that it’s one of the few true times you will be surprised in life, so I don’t want to find out. His very logical rebuttal: But you could be just as surprised when the doctor tells you at the appointment. <i>Touché</i>. Given that we’re having difficulty agreeing on names and we won’t be moving (see questions 5 and 6) I’m beginning to come around to his idea, but I’m still reserving the right to change my mind at any moment. <br />
<br />
<b>8. But you just got a new job! Do they know?</b><br />
They do. My current boss is actually a friend and so she was one of the first to know, and it rid me of that worry about when to tell a new employer when I actually did land a job.writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-33832258734241006622013-10-09T17:53:00.000-07:002013-10-09T17:53:05.586-07:00I Got a Job! <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It’s been 19 days since my last post, and as you can see, I <i>finally</i> have <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/09/yes-ive-been-avoiding-you.html">something nice to say</a>.
This job is one I’ve been striving for for a while now. It’s a
<i>big</i> one, and while I’m not entirely prepared for it, I think I’ll be okay at it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What is this new job, you ask? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, I’m going to be a <i>mom</i>. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The salary is quite crappy—non-existent, actually—but I hear the benefits are <i>
amazing</i>. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Currently, I’m 15 weeks along and we’re due <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_740149155" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">April 5, 2014</span></span>.
I’ve actually known about the little bean since August, and so
hopefully all my faithful readers now understand my random bouts of
bitchiness and anxiety-induced whining about still not having a
“real” job. Thank you for bearing with me. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One thing’s for certain, though: this wasn’t unplanned. It’s
something Jay and I had discussed, and part of what I hoped would make
2013 <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/07/2013-was-going-to-be-my-year.html">my year</a>. When I lost my job in February, we talked about putting
our plans on hold, but we ultimately decided
there’s no time like the present. Like the chorus in the prolific Jimmy
Eat World song “23” goes, you’ll sit alone forever if you wait for the
right time. And if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that
trying to control Life and make it perfect is
no way to live. Mostly because Life won’t <i>let</i> you live that way. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That much is evident based on how Life bestowed me with this great
gift but at the same time didn’t give my stress levels much of a break.
(Welcome to the rest of my life, right?) I will elaborate on all of it
in a later post answering some FAQs I’m quite
certain a lot of you may have, but for now I’m intent on keeping things
positive. (And if you’ve got a Q you'd like answered, feel free to throw it at me in the
comments.) </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now the pragmatic among you may be wondering what, in fact, I plan to
do to earn money now that we'll have another mouth to feed. Until very recently, I had these horrifying visions
of myself being a pregnant woman on unemployment, but Life finally
decided it was time to cut me some slack and I’ve
been offered a full-time job at the place I’ve been freelancing at for
the last eight months, which I’ve gleefully accepted. Hooray! So I
guess, technically, I now have
<i>two</i> jobs. (When it rains it pours, the squeaky wheel gets the
oil, and whatever other apropos clichés I can throw at this bit of news
applies here.) </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Thank you all again for your patience with my whining as of late, and for your emails
and notes of support. I promise that for the time being, the tone of
this blog will change for the better—mostly because Life finally seems
to be headed in the same direction. </span></span>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-68661222188071019532013-09-20T09:29:00.000-07:002013-09-20T09:29:45.324-07:00Yes, I’ve Been Avoiding YouFrankly, because I have nothing nice to say, and even <i>I’m</i> tiring of my incessant whining. Things are, sadly, pretty status quo. I did go to the physical therapy school open house, and I could get excited about the chance, if it weren’t for figuring out how to go to school full-time and be able to earn a living. Suggestions are welcome. <br /><br />So you know that cliché advice, if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all? <br /><br />Well, I’ve decided that I won’t be blogging until I have something nice to say. <br /><br />We’ll see how long this silence lasts. <br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-72381605561270385412013-09-12T07:00:00.000-07:002013-09-20T09:30:15.581-07:00Almost (But Not Quite) <style>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I got my first job offer in seven months. And then I
didn’t.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feeling low-balled by the salary offer—which came in about
$9,000 below what I said I was looking for—I tried negotiating, which the
hiring manager wasn’t interested in doing. And so that was it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now this job was far from my dream job, but still it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>—but someone gave me a great
piece of advice about not wanting to start a job already feeling undervalued,
so I’m trying to take comfort in that. But while I keep telling myself,
<i>something is coming that will be the right fit for you</i>, it’s getting harder and
harder to believe. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the meantime, I have my open house for the physical
therapy program to look forward to next Monday, and there were brownies in the
kitchen at work, so at least I don’t have to spend money to soothe my damaged
ego with some sweets. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s always a bright side, I guess. </div>
writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-1368041230245568712013-09-10T13:47:00.000-07:002013-09-10T13:48:33.072-07:00How to Get Out of a Bad Mood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yeah, I'll own it: the past few weeks I've been a bit of a bitch -- to my husband, my family, to strangers on the street -- and often for no apparent reason other than I feel like it.<br />
<br />
It's not cool, I know, and I try my hardest to stifle it, but sometimes it gets the better of me. I'm not dumb enough to think that purposefully hurting others will make myself feel better, so I'm not sure why I let myself get away with such antics. Just because parts of my life suck right now doesn't give me license to act this way. Plus, it makes this blog -- purported to be about beauty and comfort -- a total trick. There's nothing <i>beautiful</i> or <i>comforting</i> about the way I've been acting.<br />
<br />
So I set out to change it. How? By turning to the Internet. (Much like that kid in the <a href="http://www.ispot.tv/ad/7qCq/google-nexus-7-speech" target="_blank">most recent Google commercial</a>.) Here are a few gems I found. (Sorry, did that sound bitchy?)<br />
<ul>
<li>Do yoga</li>
<li>Listen to relaxing music </li>
<li>Start a blog </li>
<li>Spend time with people who make you laugh </li>
</ul>
Well, I've done all those things... I go to yoga at least once a week; I'm currently listening to some <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/02/my-happy-place-is-for-birds.html">David Darling</a>, and all it's doing is making me wish I was at a spa; um, <i>hello</i>! -- <i>blogging right now!</i> -- and finally, my husband, who I see on a daily basis, can be quite funny (most of the time).<br />
<br />
And as I'm sure you can gather, none of these "tips and tricks" have worked. So short of asking my doctor for some Lexapro, I'm at a loss of how to get out of this what-feels-like-a-month-long funk.<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: How do you get out of a bad mood? </b><br />
<br />
And it doesn't need to be beautiful or comforting advice. Who knows, maybe what I really need is to punch someone in the face. <br />
<br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-86617503091532366382013-08-27T12:12:00.000-07:002013-08-27T12:12:42.936-07:00I Feel Like I Owe You an Explanation So I know I’ve been kind of vague lately about my life plans and “<a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/08/how-life-is-like-tetris.html">rearranging my blocks</a>” and whatnot. I’ve been hedging on revealing exactly what I’m thinking about doing because, well, you know how once you say something out loud that means you actually have to follow through on it? I’m a little scared (and sad) to have to follow through.<br /><br />Lately, I’ve been thinking about making a complete 180 on my career, and going back to school to become a physical therapist’s assistant. It’s a two-year, associate degree program that I could complete at a community college. It’s obviously a complete change from what I’ve been doing for the last 10 or so years, but given how dire the job search has been I’m feeling the need to pursue a profession that’s more sustainable. I could go into a long tirade about how journalism today isn’t the journalism I signed up for in college, but I won’t because the only people who really care about that are my fellow writer friends who are feeling the same sting of the changing—and more often than not—declining landscape.<br /><br />
So why become a PTA? Three reasons: I could complete my degree in a year or two, make a decent living, and it’s a much more transferable skill to a city other than New York. Physical therapy is something I’ve been doing personally, and to great success, and I like the idea of a day-to-day that’s more active than just sitting at a desk all day. But I’m only <i>mildly</i> interested it. It’s certainly not my passion in life, and definitely not in the way that writing is (was?).<br /><br />
And since I’m being honest here, another reason I’ve been hedging on making this transition is because I feel like I’m giving up on something I love. I liken it to the feeling I got when my high school boyfriend broke up with me before he went away to college. I knew it was the logical thing for him to do, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t sad about it. (For the record, this is a <i>metaphor</i>. I love my husband, not my ex-boyfriend from 15 years ago.) The thought of leaving writing and editing behind truly makes me sad, to the point where if I thought about it long enough I could probably shed a tear over it. <i>Maybe</i>.<br /><br />Some folks have been quick to point out that even if I do pursue PTA school, I don’t have to completely give up writing—I could still freelance, after all. And blog. But it’s more than that. It’s this notion I have that I’m “giving up,” and I’ve mentioned before how I don’t like it <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/05/if-you-can-make-it-here.html">when Life beats me</a>.<br /><br />
And so...<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Any advice for me? Do I pursue PTA school or continue in the manner I’ve been in?</b><br /><br /><br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-8671882689488969352013-08-20T14:58:00.002-07:002013-08-20T14:58:47.282-07:00Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpAlh3oub3CTaq54fkC14kH2JaC9uCowRk8CKGkWEyMhfZSCF-wEhpULfSADN67X4hixqg_BfkTe_4Gev1qPteD5g6S5txQuc_418GU2Lm9ZyOQ0-C1l6pBWN6isHcsYVldNMrwvxlWs/s1600/a_l4day_0907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpAlh3oub3CTaq54fkC14kH2JaC9uCowRk8CKGkWEyMhfZSCF-wEhpULfSADN67X4hixqg_BfkTe_4Gev1qPteD5g6S5txQuc_418GU2Lm9ZyOQ0-C1l6pBWN6isHcsYVldNMrwvxlWs/s320/a_l4day_0907.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
Starting in September, I begin working a full work week. That's right, Monday through Friday, five days a week, just like the rest of you working stiffs.<br />
<br />
Which means today was my last Tuesday to myself. (Due to an upcoming Labor Day vacay, I'm <i>choosing</i> to work next Tuesday.) And I'm really bummed about it. Tuesdays have been my day to either act like a housewife doing laundry and cooking dinner or to act like an Upper East Side socialite meeting friends for lunch and getting pedicures (as I did today). On Tuesdays, I actually could be the free-spirited woman Mick Jagger sings about in "Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday" and do whatever I wanted. <br />
<br />
And that has been beyond helpful to my sanity over these last few months, where my life and career seem to have been stuck in limbo. Not having to run errands after work or on Saturday meant no frustratingly long lines at the post office, always having the big washer available at the laundromat, and my pick of the freshest produce at the grocery store. It also meant plenty of time for job hunting, freelance pitching, and blogging with no interruption (or guilt, as is the case on the days when I am on the job, getting paid by the hour). Plus, it's been incredibly rejuvenating for my weekends, which could now be completely dedicated to more time with my husband, family, and friends due to the lack of aforementioned errand-running. <br />
<br />
But just to be clear, I am by no means bemoaning the fact that I will actually be making more money, at least for the month of September anyway, when the gig is up. And hopefully, should I actually land a job in the meantime, it will be a nice segue, rather than an abrupt thrust back into reality.<br />
<br />
Still, my experience really makes the case for a four-day work week, which <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2013/06/24/opinion/drexler-four-day-workweek" target="_blank">multiple studies have found</a> increase productivity and worker satisfaction. If I'm ever a boss, I'm <i>sooooo</i> implementing this.<br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://printready.co/business-ideas/print-company-may-start-4-day-work-weeks/" target="_blank">Print Company</a> <br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: What would you make of a four-day work week? </b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-39613346399327107822013-08-20T04:30:00.000-07:002013-08-20T04:30:17.259-07:00The Cover Letter I Really Want to WriteDear Sir or Madam or HR Manager (I never know how to address these things),<br />
<br />
I am applying for the job you posted but understand it is probably a waste of my time. I will spend hours customizing my cover letter to you only to hear absolutely nothing in response.<br />
<br />
My experience will meet close to every one of your requirements, but for reasons unbeknownst to me, I will not be called in for consideration. I know this, and yet I still try, in the vain hope that maybe this time I will get through the stack of applications filling your inbox.<br />
<br />
Though truth be told, maybe it's partially my fault. I've gotten lazy as of late, copying and pasting pieces of previously written cover letters into one Frankenstein-like document. But really, can you blame me? I'd like to meet the person who isn't a little beaten down after seven months without a steady job, and certainly not due to a lack of trying on her part. <br />
<br />
Anywho, my resume is attached, and I hope to hear from you soon, though I won't hold my breath.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
Me <br />
<br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-44073459176282047092013-08-09T09:08:00.001-07:002013-08-09T09:42:53.676-07:00How Life Is Like Tetris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_aymdPmIsYkgIhPpa2HEj8WXDSW42JPTJSoiorENW4HAJIzLyOjfxASIbXbftd59AdY7oShLCIOQVdnDrBMvSI_4zAoK_qrTFVwKNKKN8wuNQuwLOF9rtG1uN9lwbikBkFhbyzF3cVY/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_aymdPmIsYkgIhPpa2HEj8WXDSW42JPTJSoiorENW4HAJIzLyOjfxASIbXbftd59AdY7oShLCIOQVdnDrBMvSI_4zAoK_qrTFVwKNKKN8wuNQuwLOF9rtG1uN9lwbikBkFhbyzF3cVY/s320/images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I was playing the game on my phone while on the subway the other day, and I had everything lined up perfectly -- and I mean that literally. I had my blocks set up so that the square block that was coming up to play next would give me a full-on Tetris. (For the uninitiated, a true Tetris is when one clears the game of all the blocks.)<br />
<br />
I thought, <i>Oh my god, it's coming</i>. It had been so long since I had cleared the board (first time in the mobile app), I was actually excited. <i>How would the game congratulate me</i>, I wondered dorkily. With my next move, I will have set the bar for myself, which is equally exciting and frustrating in follow-up games.<br />
<br />
So I moved the block into position, and swiped it down. It landed, complete with the sound of the game's trademark thump, in the wrong spot. One row off to be exact. <i>God dammit</i>, I exclaimed, ever so softly but still out loud on the train. I had blown it. I got cocky, and wasn't careful enough. I spent the next 10 or so minutes of my ride trying to fix my mistake, and while I made some inroads I never did get close to that full clear. I was legitimately pissed.<br />
<br />
And then it got me thinking about how my day had gone similarly. I found out I had <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/07/2013-was-going-to-be-my-year.html">yet again</a> come <i>thisclose</i> to getting a job, but got beaten out by another candidate. Like last time, I thought I had nailed this one, but when all was said and done, I came up short. One row off, you might say.<br />
<br />
Still, I thought, the game isn't over. While writing an article about how to effectively re-enter the workforce, I interviewed one of the authors of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Plateau-Effect-Getting-Success/dp/0525952802" target="_blank">this book</a>, who said the following, which has stuck with me throughout my employment limbo:<br />
<blockquote>
I do think it’s really useful to understand the macro-factors that are hindering you, because that’s also what’s going to help you make better choices. One of the main principles we talk about in the book is the idea of "try harder." It’s advice that so many people give over and over again when you’re stuck, and trying harder is often the absolute worst advice you can give someone. When you find yourself putting more and more effort into something that’s getting less and less results, that’s not a signal you should keep trying. It’s just the opposite. </blockquote>
The point being, it may be time to attack your problem from a new angle. <br />
<br />
So I'm thinking it might be time for me to find a new way to organize my blocks in life. I have a few ideas, but they won't be easy, so if I'm really going to do it, I need to full-on commit. And that, my friends, scares me.<br />
<br />
I just have to keep reminding myself the game isn't over. <br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://neurocritic.blogspot.com/2010/11/tetris-helps-prevent-unpleasant.html" target="_blank">The Neurocritic</a><br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Have you ever rearranged your blocks in life? How did you do it? </b><br />
<br />
<i>P.S. I'm on vacation next week, so any radio silence here doesn't mean I've fallen off the blogwagon again. </i><br />
<br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-68720051861557992972013-08-04T11:26:00.000-07:002013-08-04T11:26:47.832-07:00Two YearsThat's how long experts say it takes a person to get over an unexpected, traumatic event, like a divorce or job loss.<br />
<br />
<i>TWO YEARS. </i><br />
<br />
That sounds so long. And depressing. (It's worth noting that death is not included in this estimate. Getting over something like that typically takes longer.) What's more, these experts say you shouldn't try to expedite or deny this two-year process because that only postpones the inevitable day of reckoning. "After all, it takes time to rethink all the things that may be disrupted
by emotional trauma, such as one's living situation, finances,
professional goals and—maybe most important—how a person sees him or
herself," Elizabeth Bernstein <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324354704578635900864791348.html?mod=e2tw" target="_blank">writes for <i>The Wall Street Journal</i></a>. (<i>Ed note</i>: I had no idea the <i>Journal</i> did these type of touchy-feely stories.) "There aren't any shortcuts. 'The whole sweep of your life has
to be reassessed and rewoven,' Dr. [Prudence] Gourguechon says."<br />
<br />
Makes sense. But <i>still</i>. Two years? That amount of time shocked me. That's 24 months, or roughly 730 days. Talk about dwelling on the negative. <br />
<br />
I guess the good news is that given my <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/07/2013-was-going-to-be-my-year.html">crappy year-and-a-half</a>, I'm halfway done with the drama.<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Do you agree that it takes two years to get over a traumatic event? </b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-36544819861414059652013-07-30T07:39:00.005-07:002013-07-30T14:36:20.301-07:002013 Was Going to Be My Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxHi4iArOqaAh6d9P8qse_iijUR1nWHkYGb0T8hFY8ktPNDTGbuJasZx29mQwp9adF6AFhVEGKPoK6eZVyD5A9WBs8WvLClKrRf5ZRglUd_Tw1zqdwUj-YEQlcMyzLRyeNddbKYLXwCk/s1600/2013-display.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxHi4iArOqaAh6d9P8qse_iijUR1nWHkYGb0T8hFY8ktPNDTGbuJasZx29mQwp9adF6AFhVEGKPoK6eZVyD5A9WBs8WvLClKrRf5ZRglUd_Tw1zqdwUj-YEQlcMyzLRyeNddbKYLXwCk/s320/2013-display.png" width="320" /></a></div>
That is <i>soooooo</i> not the case.<br />
<br />
I had such a crumby 2012 that I was convinced 2013 would be great. It had to be -- it was <i>owed</i> to me. I started the year off hopeful, but by February, it was quite clear 2013 didn't think it owed me a thing. It started off with receiving some not-so-great-health news, followed by losing my job (six months later I'm still technically unemployed), then my cat died, the IRS came calling for a couple grand due to a prior mix up, and most recently my best friend <a href="http://arecipeforlaughter.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">moved to D.C.</a> Now yesterday, I found out I didn't get this job that I really, really, <i>really</i> wanted.<br />
<br />
<i>Wah, wah. </i><br />
<br />
Sure, there have been a few bright spots, but by and large 2013 has sucked just as bad -- if not more -- than 2012. I'm so ready for 2013 to be over that when people ask my age, I reply 34. (I'm 33.) I don't do it on purpose (unless you're 20, who ever wants to get <i>older</i>?) but I think it just speaks to how ready I am to move on from this year, this age, and this phase of my life.<br />
<br />
This all sounds more dire than I really mean it to be. In fact, recapping all of this, I kind of have to laugh (and believe me, I haven't told you <i>everything</i>). Oh, <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/04/life-you-win.html">Life, that fickle frenemy</a>. For all the crap it's thrown at me in the last seven months, it's at least shown me that losing your job isn't the end of the world, I'm stronger physically and emotionally than I've ever given myself credit for, and yes, taxes really are as certain as death.<br />
<br />
Speaking of strength, I do still have one holdout hope for 2013: this is the year I am determined to do an unassisted pullup -- maybe even two. Trainer Chad keeps telling me he knows I have the strength to do it, I just need to get out of my own head and make it happen. Easier said than done, but I am hopeful. <br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://www.centralmass.org/media-center/releases/holiday-inn-boxborough-new-years-eve-2013-celebration-december-31st" target="_blank">CentralMass.org</a><br />
<br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-4860272461864574602013-07-26T10:25:00.000-07:002013-07-26T10:25:07.731-07:00Randomonium <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6i0cSrLXy2Q2uTYoMPLrU1e1opyA-CLvJnYYlKkcLGppn8RurFPZ-7ouKxaIdrGksQYs1rkBFkHLRwtR72fiu68HrAan4FQ_ibl3Ypul8ViyY394n7c35-E-vP3xbC9eMJjbC0mj6pk/s1600/5396379688_34f7524a02_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6i0cSrLXy2Q2uTYoMPLrU1e1opyA-CLvJnYYlKkcLGppn8RurFPZ-7ouKxaIdrGksQYs1rkBFkHLRwtR72fiu68HrAan4FQ_ibl3Ypul8ViyY394n7c35-E-vP3xbC9eMJjbC0mj6pk/s320/5396379688_34f7524a02_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Because when I did a Google image search for "random," this is what came up.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Aaaah, it has been <i>sooooooooo</i> long!<br />
<br />
I've missed this blog, and even recently found out that I have a few dedicated readers who I've been disappointing with my absence. (Hi Emily, Katie and Janet!) My excuse? I've been busy. Even with only working part-time. (I'm always sort of blown away by how running a few errands can eat up an entire afternoon. How <i>did</i> I do all this with a full-time job? And at a startup, no less.)<br />
<br />
But alas, today I have some time, and feeling inspired by my friend Ilyse, who recently started <a href="http://arecipeforlaughter.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">her own blog</a> chronicling her adventures in her new home base of D.C., I made a point to write today. There's actually been a lot I've wanted to write about in the last few weeks (month, really!), but never managed to fully form thoughts about. Here are a few of those thought-provoking topics: <br />
<br /><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-kinnear/5-things-parents-need-to-stop-saying-to-non-parents_b_3573670.html?utm_hp_ref=tw" target="_blank">5 Things Parents Need to Stop Saying to Non-Parents </a><br />
I've heard some of these comments, and always thought I was being overly sensitive in being annoyed by them. It's nice to know I wasn't. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.salon.com/2013/07/14/study_married_women_who_keep_their_maiden_names_more_successful_than_those_who_dont_partner/" target="_blank">Women Who Keep Their Maiden Names Aren't Necessarily Feminists </a><br />
I just like my given name, okay? It has a certain ring to it.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://bigstory.ap.org/article/temporary-jobs-becoming-permanent-fixture-us" target="_blank">Temporary Jobs Becoming a Permanent Fixture in U.S. </a><br />
This one hit home, because being in a temporary gig -- as much as I enjoy its flexibility -- is stressful for a Type-A personality who always needs to know what's coming next. It's a bit frightening to me that this could be the future way of the workplace. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2013/07/are-the-suburbs-where-the-american-dream-goes-to-die/278014/" target="_blank">Are Suburbs Where the American Dream Goes to Die? </a><br />
I like city life, but there are elements of suburbia that I miss. Like Target. A patch of grass that's all mine. Driving. (Until I drive, and then I hate it.) I'm known to sometimes romanticize suburban life, and this news doesn't make me feel good. <br />
<br />
And so that's it. Hopefully one day soon, I'll actually have time to read an article, form an opinion, and then write about it. <br />
<br />
But until then, it's been nice catching up. <br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: What's been on your mind lately? </b><br />
<br />writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-84536501224025851852013-07-15T07:46:00.002-07:002013-09-10T14:00:17.336-07:00Enough Already Yeah, I know it's been a while, but there's nothing like disgust to get one blogging again.<br />
<br />
I saw something today that made me sick: Trayvon Martin’s
dead body.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The photo, posted by Gawker, was allegedly meant to spark
anger, not pageviews. The Root has a <a href="http://www.theroot.com/buzz/gawkers-bad-reason-showing-travyons-dead-body" target="_blank">great rebuttal</a> to this rationalization,
and my cynicism in Gawker’s motives is why I’m not linking to it. (As if I have
that many readers!) If you really want to see it, I’m sure you can find it. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I honestly didn't realize that when I clicked on the link from another story that that is what I would see. Though I should have known
better, knowing <a href="http://jezebel.com/5700664/from-the-editor-paris-consent-and-shitstorms" target="_blank">how Gawker Media operates</a>. My immediate reaction was to look away, scroll down so it was out of
sight, and close the page. What his family must feel like, knowing this image
is out there, open for commentary, I thought. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
The whole thing reminded me of another recent occurrence
that involved a graphic photo. A man recently <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/queens/man-jumps-front-n-train-astoria-article-1.1370027" target="_blank">committed suicide</a> by jumping in front of
the elevated line in Astoria. The event got very little press, despite the fact
that his body parts wound up strewn all over the street. At 4 o’clock in the
afternoon. A time that, as some of my Astorian Facebook friends noted, children
where headed home from school. Gothamist linked to some tweets that had images
of the severed body parts on the street (which is a whole other outrage). My
morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked. Then I shrugged. It looked
like nothing more than a scene from a horror movie. Yes, I was disgusted with
myself for several reasons, but was most struck by my “meh” reaction. Had I
become that desensitized to violence?<br />
<br />
That image of Trayvon Martin showed me that I had not. Sure,
I wasn’t prepared for it, and unlike the Astoria man, Trayvon didn’t choose to
die. But by clicking to see either photo, what <i>I</i> showed was disrespect. If I
need to see gore that badly, I should go see a horror film. And so the next
time I’m confronted with a graphic image of a dead body, I’m not going to look
at it, morbid curiosity be damned.<br />
<br />
Also, I’m never reading Gawker again.
writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-69103467680788100142013-05-17T13:25:00.003-07:002013-05-17T13:28:24.029-07:00If You Can Make It Here...I don't like to lose.<br />
<br />
Today I read about the film <a href="http://www.franceshamovie.com/" target="_blank"><i>Frances Ha</i></a>, which tells the story of a 27-year-old woman who moved to New York City to become a dancer, and is beginning to experience the hard reality that she's just not going to be one of New York's chosen ones.<br />
<br />
It looks comically depressing, and also more relateable than any New Yorker would like to admit:<br />
<br />
<center>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U7SxMaA0Om8" width="460"></iframe></center>
<br />
Sometimes, New York can be the perfect metaphor for life: you constantly have to adjust your expectations. The last graph of the <a href="http://www.amny.com/urbanite-1.812039/movie-review-frances-ha-4-stars-1.5277680" target="_blank">review I read</a> sums it up well:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
It gets the spirit of New York exactly right: the constant striving, the reality that you'll forever be surrounded by people who seem more accomplished than you and the deep satisfaction that comes with making it here, even if you have to reconstitute your definition of "making it." </blockquote>
Which got me thinking about my own definition of "making it." I have forever felt like "making it" in New York was just being able to afford to rent an apartment here, probably largely because in that sense, I had "made it." There was a brief period in 2012 and the beginning of 2013 when I felt like maybe I was destined for something more, but that's since crawled back into the hole into my brain from whence it came. And so I'm back to the small victory of simply being able to afford an apartment here. (Never mind that the place I've lived in for the last six years is rent stabilized, which kind of feels like cheating.) <br />
<br />
Now, I admit that I have my moments of New York loathing, lately more often than not, where I wonder what the hell I am doing in this city that is so expensive, so competitive and sometimes so soul-crushing. Still, I am resolute in the fact that New York <i>will not beat me</i>. I refuse to let it kick me out, which I've seen it do to people, whether because they can no longer afford to stay in it, or because they can't find a job. Not me. When it comes time to go -- and that time will come -- it will be on my own terms. <br />
<br />
And honestly, I feel as though when I do leave, where ever I wind up, only then will I have truly made it. Because really, if you can make it here, you truly can make it anywhere, because New York is like the boot camp that gets you into the Marine Corp. of real life. writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-25674431107475103872013-05-16T11:00:00.000-07:002013-05-16T11:00:18.298-07:00She Likes Me, She Really Likes Me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Mstb_8IiUX7MDKTdm7VcHKhvCYH2kgGUEbrq6BBjJ5hfO4vFnNRDc_-_K0KO1t_Zi3OEnaYdX370IUyZqoQtjbqAfh1XDeVWEet_zmcNYlrxAH7t6L7Xb85rq567H6zPzfgmNWK4m7M/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-05-16+at+1.55.53+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Mstb_8IiUX7MDKTdm7VcHKhvCYH2kgGUEbrq6BBjJ5hfO4vFnNRDc_-_K0KO1t_Zi3OEnaYdX370IUyZqoQtjbqAfh1XDeVWEet_zmcNYlrxAH7t6L7Xb85rq567H6zPzfgmNWK4m7M/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-05-16+at+1.55.53+PM.png" /></a></div>
Recently, I had a pretty amazing thing happen to me, but there's a little bit of back story before I can get to the amazing part.<br />
<br />
Before I got laid off in February, I was interviewing candidates for an associate editor job. I had an appointment set with one girl, let's call her Amy, when I got the bad news. I emailed her to let her know that unfortunately we no longer needed to meet, and I was sorry about that because I really was looking forward to meeting her. And I meant it. She had an amazing resume, and had written some really fantastic, well-reported and well-researched articles for a very high-profile publication. She was very understanding about it all, and said she would keep her ears open for me.<br />
<br />
Just recently, I got an email from Amy. "I was just thinking about you and wanted to write to check in," she wrote, and suggested that we get together for coffee sometime.<br />
<br />
<i>Wow, how unbelievably nice</i>, I thought. Someone I barely know is checking in on how I'm doing, and wants to meet up, with no ulterior motive. (As I'm currently just a temp, I can't do much for her job-wise, and she was well aware of that.)<br />
<br />
So we met for coffee the other day, and it was great. We talked about my old job, the industry, and a little bit about life. It turns out I did have a few job leads for her, which I was more than happy to share because Amy truly is such a fantastic reporter.<br />
<br />
Toward the end of our conversation, we talked about how nice it was to finally meet in person, and she said she wanted to reach out again because she got such a good vibe from me from our email exchange. I was flattered of course, and floored at her willingness to explore her gut instinct. How many times have I met people in passing who I felt like I could really click with but never followed up with for various reasons -- no time, I have enough friends, or just plain forgetfulness? It got me thinking about how many amazing people I could be missing out on because of what is essentially laziness (maybe peppered with a little bit of fear of rejection).<br />
<br />
We left coffee saying we'd like to get together again soon, and I left thinking to myself how I was definitely going to do that again -- not just meet with Amy, but truly make an effort with the next person I feel like I connect with. <br />
<br />
Because who knows? Maybe one day with this small gesture I could make someone's day just like Amy made mine.<br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Have you ever gone out on a limb to meet a new potential friend?</b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-58681214306078220912013-05-14T13:58:00.002-07:002013-05-14T13:59:38.326-07:00Oof, It's May. Well, hello again.<br />
<br />
As per usual, I didn't intend for this extended absence to happen, but such is life. And I'm just letting life happen these days, <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/04/life-you-win.html">remember</a>? <br />
<br />
Since I've been at my temp editing gig, I've been privy to lots -- TONS -- of free magazines, one of which is <i>People</i>. The mag recently started a "One Last Thing" feature on the last page of the book, where they ask a star a bunch of random, innocuous questions. Because I have nothing to report, but still wanted to stop by and say hi, I thought it might be fun for <i>me</i> to answer some of these inane queries.<br />
<br />
I keep telling myself that nothing has happened that's worth blogging about, but, well, after answering these questions, it's just not true. I did discover Schmackary's after all. (If you're interested in reading the interview with the actual celebrity, in this case Sarah Chalke, <a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20698621,00.html" target="_blank">go here</a>.)<br />
<br />
<b>LAST FILM THAT MADE ME CRY</b><br />
I don't cry often, but when I do, it's often about animals. So the last movie that made me cry was <i>Marley & Me</i>. I was home by myself and I tried stifling it, but once I realized no one was around to laugh at me, I balled. <br />
<br />
<b>LAST TIME I GOT SUNBURNED</b><br />
On our trip to <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/03/march-im-so-glad-youre-here.html">Puerto Rico</a>. I slathered on the sunscreen but still managed to feel the burn.<br />
<br />
<b>LAST INJURY I SUSTAINED </b><br />
Over Christmas. I was doing a trail run at my parents' and I tripped -- bad. Real, real, bad. Full-on Slip 'N Slide action. I still have scars on my right knee from it.<br />
<br />
<b>LAST VACATION I TOOK</b><br />
That would be Puerto Rico. Again. (Hmm... maybe this exercise isn't that interesting after all.) <br />
<br />
<b>LAST TIME I INDULGED </b><br />
Thursday. The husband and I went out to dinner in Hell's Kitchen, and on our walk home we passed <a href="http://schmackarys.com/">Schmackary's</a> for the first time. The smell was so intoxicating it literally formed a hook around our necks and pulled us in. I got the Peanut Butter After Dark, naturally. writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-75610211696071485952013-04-26T12:52:00.000-07:002013-09-10T14:06:07.087-07:00An Inspiration Edition<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E9MjkoOEamutYUJDCdRx9NAmobl7mYdUreguN-voqKnivnrcyHgfVx98SdqKPSAcbpBYCt-P-SWMK6BoJfS3h7DPBn_lr-tsz_FHCnpcvhUmfnM5zAVnrI5IFs1dQEoha7ldygwWHJc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E9MjkoOEamutYUJDCdRx9NAmobl7mYdUreguN-voqKnivnrcyHgfVx98SdqKPSAcbpBYCt-P-SWMK6BoJfS3h7DPBn_lr-tsz_FHCnpcvhUmfnM5zAVnrI5IFs1dQEoha7ldygwWHJc/s320/photo.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arianna Huffington, Star Jones and Susan Lucci</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And, we're back.<br />
<br />
Another unwanted (on my part, at least) extended absence. But today provides a much-needed break that allows for some time to blog. And while I don't have any deep thoughts to share, other people do.<br />
<br />
I had the good fortune to attend the <a href="http://www.cvent.com/events/napw-national-networking-conference/event-summary-2815816c27b349e9b5cf7a6b25dff4ae.aspx" target="_blank">National Association of Professional Women's annual conference</a> today, and a bevy of inspirational ladies were in attendance, among them <b>Arianna Huffington</b> (I got to shake her hand), <b>Star Jones</b> (she re-tweeted me!) and <b>Susan Lucci</b> (who I awkwardly asked for an autograph when I happened upon her in the ladies' room. She was very gracious).<br />
<br />
The inspiration was flowing like good wine, and I came home feeling a little hungover, but in a good way, like when you were young and stayed out too late drinking way too much but the next day you couldn't feel too bad about it because you know you had an awesome time.<br />
<br />
Here are a few of my favorite quotes, and I use the term "quotes" loosely because I was taking notes by hand and not on my best journalistic game.<br />
<br />
<b>Lesley Jane Seymour, EIC of <i>More</i>, on the changing media landscape: </b><br />
It's a
different world. When I started as an EIC, I came in, did the magazine
and left. Now I have to do TV, social...you can't just lock yourself in a
room anymore and say "I'm going to do this." <br />
<br />
<b>Arianna Huffington on the same: </b><br />
It's no longer about talking, it's about listening. We used to consume news on the couch and now we consume it galloping on a horse.<br />
<br />
<b>Huffington on staying healthy: </b><br />
When I wake up after a good night's sleep, I'm ready to take on the world. Isn't that a great way to live life? <br />
<br />
<b>Huffington on <i>Lean In</i>: </b><br />
We also need to learn to lean back to reinvigorate. Because that's when you get your best ideas. <br />
<br />
<b>Huffington paraphrasing Rumi: </b><br />
Life is rigged in your favor. Turn stumbling blocks into stepping stones.<br />
<br />
<b>Huffington on how women judge themselves: </b><br />
If we can reduce the self-judgement we'd have so much energy freed up.<br />
<br />
<b>Monique L. Nelson, CEO of UniWorld Group, on what she would tell her 21-year-old self:</b><br />
I'd forgive myself. Life happens. Either you can make it happen or it happens to you. I'd take things a little slower and not try to do so much so early. Eventually the environment took its course to slow me down.<br />
<br />
<b>Desiree Rogers, CEO of Johnson Publishing and the former White House social secretary, on the same: </b><br />
Don't allow people to tell you who you are.<br />
<br />
<b>Star Jones on the same: </b><br />
Place your health as a priority. I'm worth eating correctly, I'm worth exercising, I'm worth getting sleep.<br />
<br />
<b>Rogers on "having it all": </b><br />
It's a creation of my all. If I'm happy, everyone around me is happy. <br />
<br />
<b>Sara Blakely, founder of Spanx, on the best advice she ever received:</b><br />
Failure is life's way of telling you you're not on the right course. <br />
<br />
<b>Martha Stewart on taking a break: </b><br />
You should never retire. You should never even use that word.<br />
<br />
<b>Stewart's random tip on my favorite snack: </b><br />
Cook kale chips on parchment paper to make them crispy.<br />
<br />
<b>Stewart on hitting rock bottom: </b><br />
I've never hit a bottom. It's just a bump in the road.<br />
<br />
<b>The exchange Star Jones re-tweeted me on! </b><br />
Star Jones: Where does the toughness come from? Martha Stewart: Um, just dealing with crap. <br />
<br />
<b>Stewart on her one regret: </b><br />
That I didn't have enough children. It's just a totally different way of looking at things.<br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: me <br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: What's the most thought provoking thing you've heard lately? </b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-68448842717979377792013-04-12T16:57:00.001-07:002013-04-12T17:04:53.125-07:00Life, You Win. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Don't worry I'm not suicidal. That statement sounds more dramatic than it is. But in truth, it's quite freeing to have recently realized that I have no control over Life*, so I should stop trying to control it. <br />
<br />
Those who know me, even marginally, know that I am a control freak. I like order, and I like to have plans. I always need to know what my next step is going to be, whether it's in Life or simply for the next morning's breakfast.<br />
<br />
But lately, I don't care to see past the next 24 hours. In fact, I'm annoyed that my gym now requires you sign up for a class at least 36 hours in advance in order to guarantee a spot. I don't want to think ahead that far, because if I've learned anything this past year, it's that Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.<br />
<br />
No one would argue that Life has dealt me a few blows when it comes to my Life plans. So now I'm waving the white flag. Admitting defeat. Giving up. But you know what? I'm okay with it. It actually <i>feels good</i> to not think about the future. I feel like this is something Life has been telling me to do for some time now, and I've been <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/02/if-you-mess-with-bull.html">too headstrong</a> to pay attention.<br />
<br />
Well, Life, you have my full attention now. Right here, <i>now</i>, in this very moment. I no longer feel the need to have the next five years -- let alone five days -- of my Life planned out. But who knows? Tomorrow I could feel differently.<br />
<br />
Still, I'm not going to think about that now.<br />
<br />
<i>*I feel compelled to explain why I'm treating Life as a proper noun here. It's because I often think of Life as it's own person, someone who is occasionally there to comfort me, and sometimes out to get me. Basically, I see Life as a frenemy. </i><br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://www.hannahshopeministries.org/blog/?p=4959" target="_blank">Hannah's Hope </a><br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Do you plan for the future? </b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-30805046845078897692013-04-09T09:18:00.002-07:002013-04-09T09:18:25.921-07:00It's Real Simple<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real Simple's Kristin van Ogtrop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Finally, someone puts into words this nagging feeling I've had about Sheryl Sandberg's book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lean-In-Women-Work-Will/dp/0385349947" target="_blank"><i>Lean In</i></a>. <br />
<br />
The book is something no one can seem to stop talking about, whether they love it or hate it. I personally haven't read it, and don't plan to, as I think I've gotten the gist from those who have: young women need to be ambitious.<br />
<br />
Sound advice for sure, but something bugged me about it. Enter Kristin van Ogtrop, the editor of <i>Real Simple</i>, who I had the pleasure of interviewing once. (She was very sweet and kind, and tolerated my fan girl gushing over her magazine with the best quip, which I've forgotten exactly, about how she loves nothing more than to hear how much people love the magazine). <br />
<br />
But back to Sandberg. I'm reading van Ogrop's editor's letter in the magazine's May issue (something I always do and who a marketing friend once told me research shows no one ever does). About <i>Lean In</i>, she writes:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Here's the thing: I don't want to be striving bigger/better/higher/more every minute of every day. I don't always want to have a larger goal. That just sounds exhausting and worst of all, completely joyless. I want to enjoy my days: past, present, and future. </blockquote>
And I thought:<i> that's it</i>. It's all this <i>striving</i> women are told to do that's bugging me. I certainly don't judge people who are ambitious; I've been there and to a certain extent still am. But it's this notion that we can't -- or shouldn't -- be happy where we are <i>right now</i> that I think is ineffective for everyone, female or male. <br />
<br />
I spent a good portion of my young adult life striving and wanting something more. I've often thought to myself, "Things will be perfect when..." or "I can't wait until..." When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to get to college. When I was in college, I couldn't wait to get out on my own and work in the Big City. When I got out on my own and made it to the Big City, I <i>still</i> wanted more -- a better job at a well-known magazine with an apartment all to myself. I got all those things and more, and I value each and every one of them and the experiences that got me there. But the thing is, I never appreciated what I had when I had it, because I was always after this "something else." Looking back now, I often feel like I missed out on truly appreciating the awesomeness of where I was at that moment because I was so focused on the future.<br />
<br />
And so I'm trying hard not to do that now. After reading van Ogtrop's editor's letter, it dawned on me that the reason I have no interest in Sandberg's book is because she's giving advice I don't necessarily want to follow. I also found it poetic how the editor of <i>Real Simple</i> managed to make a complicated feeling I had so, well, simple. <br />
<br />
In her conclusion, van Ogrop nails it better than I ever could. Speaking of her own <i>Lean In</i> epiphany, she says, "When I stopped myself in the office kitchen, I suppose I was telling myself to lean back for a moment. I don't really want to lean back for long. But I don't want to lean in, either. I know I'm most comfortable standing straight up."<br />
<br />
Me too.<br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://www.realsimple.com/magazine-more/inside-magazine/life-lessons/keeping-adult-friendships-00000000032757/" target="_blank">Real Simple </a><br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Have you read Lean In? What did you think about it? </b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-88875980058989353872013-04-04T14:53:00.001-07:002013-04-04T14:53:33.610-07:00In Defense of Gwyneth Paltrow and Her New Cookbook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Whenever Gwyneth
Paltrow does something, there’s always a lot of hate thrown her way (see: <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/22/fashion/22gwyneth.html?ref=fashion&_r=0">here</a> and <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/meredith-blake/the-real-problem-with-gwy_b_163145.html">here</a>), and with the launch of her new cookbook, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-All-Good-Delicious-Recipes/dp/1455522716"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s
All Good: Delicious, Easy Recipes That Will Make You Look and Feel Great</i></a>, the headlines are no different.
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"The book
reads like the manifesto to some sort of creepy healthy-girl sorority with
members who use beet juice rather than permanent marker to circle the 'problem
areas' on each other’s bodies," <a href="http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/food/starved_for_attention_CkQoljEkRWx1rnIQ6ObG7J/1">writes one critic</a>. “"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It's All Good</i> seems to take laughable Hollywood neuroticism about
eating to the next level," <a href="file:///%22It's%20All%20Good%20seems%20to%20take%20laughable%20Hollywood%20neuroticism%20about%20eating%20to%20the%20next%20level,%22%20she%20writes.%C2%A0%20%20Read%20more/%20http/::www.businessinsider.com:gwyneth-paltrow-its-all-good-cookbook-2013-3#ixzz2PVLHCjRX">writes another</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Why all the
hate? Because in this 304-page cookbook, released this week, Paltrow advocates
an elimination diet, in which one avoids coffee, alcohol, dairy, eggs, sugar,
shellfish, deepwater fish, potatoes, tomatoes, bell peppers, eggplant, corn,
wheat, meat and soy—not just for a period of time, but for the rest of one’s
life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Recommended by
her doctor Dr. Alejandro Junger (of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clean</i>
diet fame) even Paltrow admits the idea was a bit overwhelming at first, and a
blow for the self-professed foodie. Still, she says, the end result was life
changing, and spawned the idea for this cookbook, which she co-wrote with Julia
Turshen, a food writer and private chef based in New York. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now, as an
admitted fan of hers, I don’t quite get all the hate for someone simply
encouraging living a healthy lifestyle, but even more so, I feel the need to
remind people not to knock something until they’ve tried it. Over the course of
my 30-some-odd years, I’ve eliminated whole food groups from my diet at
different times and for various reasons—some were health-related, others just
out of curiosity—and it always amazed me how differently, and often better, my
body operated in the absence of certain foods. Some I’ve added back in and
never looked back (like meat) and others (like cheese) I consider a treat food because
of the effects, good and bad, their absence has had on my body. What worked for
me didn’t work for all my friends, or even always align with Paltrow’s advice
in this book. The point is, every body is different, and every body will have
different needs, but you can’t blast someone for a certain way of life until
you’ve given it a go yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The lifestyle
Paltrow advocates in this book isn’t always easy, and she readily admits that.
“The rest of my life? Without Parmesan cheese and fried zucchini and pasta and
baguettes and Pinor Noir?” she writes. “That was not going to happen, let’s
face it. However, could it become my baseline?...Could I lean toward it more? I
decided I could.” Without saying so, it sounds like Paltrow is following the
old 80/20 rule when it comes to food: eating healthy 80 percent of the time so
you can indulge the other 20 percent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That certainly
doesn’t sound like a “neurotic” and “creepy healthy-girl” way of living to me,
but a balanced, healthy and realistic approach to eating for the rest of one’s
life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And let’s face
it: If any diet can help us all look as good as Paltrow does at age 40, why not
try it? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-All-Good-Delicious-Recipes/dp/1455522716" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>I wonder: Have you ever tried an elimination diet? How did it go? </b></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-92181257653472981512013-03-31T05:15:00.001-07:002013-03-31T05:15:57.886-07:00I've Missed You. (No, Really, I Have)He has risen and so have I. (Happy Easter, everyone!)<br />
<br />
I can't believe it's been two weeks since I last blogged. (Remember when I said I would <a href="http://orchids-casseroles.blogspot.com/2013/02/yes-really.html">blog every day</a>? Ha!) My absence is certainly not on purpose, and it's not like I haven't thought about you, my dear readers, these last few weeks. Things have just been busy work-wise, which isn't really something I can complain about, given that I'm trying to re-establish my freelance career. (I'll have proof of my absence soon when some of the articles I've been laboring over are published.)<br />
<br />
One thing I've realized is that the busier you are the less time you have for some personal reflection -- which could really be made into an argument for all of us taking a chill pill from time to time, but I digress. With so much obligation, work-wise or otherwise, it's a bit of brain drain to the point that when you have a few free minutes, all you want to do is zone out, not necessarily contemplate life, which is what this blog is all about. <br />
<br />
Hence why there's not really a point to this post either. Still, I'm just happy to be back, and hope you're glad to see me, too. <br />
<br />
More soon. writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1835537437926749633.post-76157115114036674212013-03-15T14:52:00.000-07:002013-03-15T14:52:02.465-07:00Nagging Questions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeH3L1g_HugYNzTXr4UXIKJHgzn6eh79SJzpgS4A9z4-0IHiH2YJw6t3Cb0cZFE41J2wFYYOimD2Mbnu4LZBpa7A6OBQpsZGnqH1J-5WtBz7UEkZY0rrlCvmgWbw0KNhwRXeHI-PUcLI/s1600/depositphotos_6360395-Success-or-Failure-road-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeH3L1g_HugYNzTXr4UXIKJHgzn6eh79SJzpgS4A9z4-0IHiH2YJw6t3Cb0cZFE41J2wFYYOimD2Mbnu4LZBpa7A6OBQpsZGnqH1J-5WtBz7UEkZY0rrlCvmgWbw0KNhwRXeHI-PUcLI/s320/depositphotos_6360395-Success-or-Failure-road-sign.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
I'm not a big believer in signs, but two big questions have been coming up a lot for me lately and so therefore are hard to ignore. <br />
<br />
Part of the genesis of these questions has to do with a series
of articles I'm working on, and part of it has to do with the
advice I've been seeking on my own as part of my current career-centric
soul-searching. (And for the record, the people asking these questions
are not new-age hippies.) <br />
<br />
The first:<b> Am I successful? </b><br />
<br />
Having recently been laid off and see my income drop dramatically, the obvious answer would be no. But it turns out, the best measure of my success is one that I <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/today/post/article/20130314115932-20017018-the-best-definition-of-success-is-the-one-you-never-use?trk=li_tw_0313_jeffhaden_happiness&sf10507505=1" target="_blank">never considered</a>.<br />
. <br />
The second question, which I now realize is inarguably tied to the first, is just as easily answerable: <br />
<br />
<b>How happy are you? </b><br />
<br />
Truth be told, I'm pretty darn happy right now. <br />
<br />
How does this net out, you might be wonder?<br />
<br />
No doubt about it, certain things are a bit unstable, and I don't
have everything I want at the moment, but overall I'm feeling fulfilled in the work that I'm doing,
which is something I haven't felt in a long time. I'm really enjoying
just simply writing and editing again, and I like the flexibility that
freelance is affording me.<br />
<br />
And when I consider the network I've built through my career, and how
invaluable they've all been to me this past month, I feel
incredibly lucky. This network helps me stay afloat -- and I'm talking about my confidence as well as my finances here.<br />
<br />
Freelancing isn't a path I've purposefully chosen to follow, but I certainly can't complain that I am on it at the moment. I'm realizing a lot about what I value both personally and professionally, and more important, I have a better understanding of what I want to make of my life, both personally and professionally. And the interesting thing is, these conclusions are ones I never would have expected to come to.<br />
<br />
So maybe it's time to condense these two questions: <b>Am I successful at being happy?</b><br />
<br />
The answer is, absolutely.<br />
<br />
<i>Photo</i>: <a href="http://depositphotos.com/6360395/stock-illustration-Success-or-Failure-road-sign.html" target="_blank">Deposit Photos</a> <br />
<br />
<b>I wonder: Are you successful at being happy?</b>writer-type personhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059004470223229215noreply@blogger.com0