My little red ropers

I had these red ropers when I was little. I loved them. They were a particularly nice paring to my Wranglers, custom belt-buckle, starched cowboy shirt and cowboy hat. Don't judge. You know you went through a 'western' stage right around the time of Garth Brooks' release of Ropin' the Wind.

What are ropers you ask? (as if that was the most disturbing part of the above paragraph) They're a style of cowboy boot. Duh.

[See image below for a visual: think a smaller version. They'll be cuter that way.]

Although I'm fairly certain I will never own a pair of these clown shoes again, they remind me a part of me I hope to never lose. The country girl in me.

My business partner and I have been brainstorming company names for a little more than a month now. We both happen to be from Kansas so we are hoping to incorporate some things from our roots. Although this process has given me a ginormous headache, I have appreciated the opportunity to dust off a few memories and explore some areas of my life that I didn't think would jive in this oh-so-fashionable city of Angels.

What I'm learning is that L.A. could use a little country. And although I didn't actually grow up on a farm, the days I spent in those sassy red ropers, stomping through the rodeo grounds and clutching the stirrups of my horse's saddle may be enough cowgirl to make a difference out here in the Wild West.

That said, I vow to keep the ropers as a childhood adornment and replace them with red stilettos. You know, as a reminder to keep things real in a more 'relevant' way.

[NOTE: For nostalgic purposes (and my mom, who may be the only one still reading this blog), I offer you the following gem]

Who You Are

I was in another client meeting this week with my partner in crime and was asked, "So, I know what he does, but what do you do?"

You see, "he" is a graphic designer. It's quite obvious what his contribution to the whole branding process is.

My contribution ... not so visible.

So when I was asked, "what the hell are you here for?" (in fewer words) I sort of ... freaked out. I had been over this question a million times in my head. But let's face it, I'm with them when wondering why I'd pay for someone's 'perspective.' I believe they call it "intellectual property" now, but it doesn't mean the invisible is easy to fork over hard cash for.

The truth is. You're paying for my opinion. You're paying for my thoughts and ideas regarding how we best communicate who you are and why you should be a topic of conversation at the dinner table.

You're paying for the strategy ... the reason behind the killer logo and compelling website. And you may even pay me for some witty copy if you're into that sort of thing.

My problem with this question is that I always wonder if that's enough. And in this particular moment I really didn't have a choice but to tell him exactly what it is they were signing up for with me. Usually I add a few "tangible" things onto the list like, "And I'll also run your Twitter account and ...." This time I didn't. And the lesson I learned from my sudden restraint:

Don't over-sell. If you try too hard to be what you think they would need instead of offering solutions to problems through your unique skillsets, you pigeon-hole yourself into a situation that you will loathe. (Yes, loathe.)

And maybe the more significant lesson ...

Who you are will be enough to the right people.

Who are you?

I mean, who are you really?

Not, who you're trying to be, but ... you.

Go a head and answer. Guarantee it's not as easy as you think. Or maybe I'm just slow (which is always a possibility).

During a meeting with a client this week, there was a conversation around "uniqueness." You know, the "what differentiates you from all the other (fill in the blank)?" question. Which, by the way, is usually asked after the "who are you" question is answered with a jumbled mess of industry buzz words. So we ask again, "what makes you different than everyone else in your competitive grid?"

[Insert Silence. Lots of it]

They suddenly look as me as if i just attacked them. Like I just took that dream right off of the puffy rabbit-shaped cloud and sent it crashing to the ground. And I get it. This is a bit invasive. Overwhelming. Frustrating. It's embarrassing not to know the answer to a question that you, of all people, should be able to answer. Lucky for them, I know how hard it is. So before the self-depravation sends them into a panic, I chime in with some action steps and talk them gently talk them down from the ledge.

This part of the branding process isn't meant to be demoralizing, but when you realize what you've been doing all along is just some variation of what's already been done ... it's a bit of a slap in the face (especially if you've been a glorified copy-cat for most of your career/life. The horror sets in quickly with the thought of attempting to make the same living as ... yourself).

To become "reacquainted" with yourself, so-to-speak, is ... messy. It can bring up some things that have long been stored away. For some, the "what makes you unique" conversation reminds them of middle school and their "unique" frizzy hair, head gear or bi-focal glasses everyone else deemed as free comedic material. Ever since then, unique left a bit of a bad taste in their mouths. For others the word seems to fuel their arrogance and its over-use in their dialog makes it strangely ... forgettable.

Either way, the next time someone asks you what you're about, I hope you're able to tell them why you're different. Not just for the sake of being different ... but because you are ... even if you haven't given yourself permission to own it since that one day in science when someone accidentally lit your uniquely frizzy hair on fire.

The truth: you're no good to us as someone else. So, sit on it for a while and come up with an answer that actually suits you ... not the person you think they want you to be. And if that seems daunting and you can't get past the first question without driving yourself into an invisible riverbank, ask a friend or enemy your trust to give it to you straight. Guarantee they've seen it in you for a while now and they've just been waiting for you to figure it out yourself. And once the lightbulb goes off, it's time to own it. Got it? I'm serious. Don't even do this if you aren't ready to see what you're really made of.

Ok. Now go make it happen.

remember that post about dreams?

As it turns out, there has been a bit of a merger between new, shiny, diversion dream and old, passion-fueled, unsafe dream.

Here's how it went down:

Ran into an old friend/band mate on a Sunday.

He invited me to an open house for this new vocal studio/bar/musicians movement he is spearheading in Hollywood Monday evening.

Monday evening, I go with husband in tow.

We meet said vocal coach and are on our merry way.

Meeting with old friend/band mate takes place a few days later regarding the details of all the new happenings.

Meeting is then scheduled with old friend/band mate's vocal coach partner friend for the following week to talk about a joint branding seminar for musicians.

Meeting with vocal coach partner friend goes well.

First meeting with vocal student is set for tomorrow.

Uh.

What just happened?

This abrupt turn down the path of never-in-my-wildest-dreams has led me to freak out a bit. I wouldn't say more than usual, but it definitely funnels my paranoia into a specific area of my life for the time being.

I mean, it can't be this perfect can it? Isn't there a point where things are just too good to be true and the floor falls out from under your feet without so much as a warning?

A good friend of mine asked if I watched for falling anvils when I walked outside. My response, "No, not anvils ... pianos. Grand pianos. You can never be too prepared."

Of course I'm secretly hoping all this is happening because I've worked hard for it and have carved a nice little niche for myself based on deeply rooted passions. But I can't help feeling a bit unnerved (and tremendously guilty) that my career is creating itself before I even got the chance to develop a marketing campaign. Even worse ... had I planned this for myself, I most-likely wouldn't have taken it in this direction because I would have thought it impossible.

Here's to hanging on for dear life and giving myself permission to enjoy the ride every-once-in-a-while. (I'll let you know how the latter part goes shortly ...)

oh the insanity

I've heard it asked before in my line of business, "Can you do that 'iPhone thing' for us?"

And my typical response (in true justifiable sarcasm), "Sure! So you want to sign up for the 30-year contract then ... great! I could use the stable income!"

I mean, seriously? What is it with businesses thinking they can snap their fingers and create a following as loyal (and insane) as Apple's? And at what point did we all fail to acknowledge this movement of brand loyalists began long before the genesis of the iPhone?

This stuff takes time.

If you're willing to let it marinate for a while, you have a rare opportunity to get to know your consumer and what melts their butter. And because of that ... you are able to invoke behaviors out of said consumers that aren't particularly logical.

Like lining up in front of your store a day before a product launch.

I was never that person and, quite frankly, never understood it. Well, at least not until I met my husband. Now, I just consider myself an early adopter by default. Which is why I waited in line with my restless puppy and hundreds of other Apple fanatics for five and a half hours yesterday (IN THE RESERVED LINE) to be one of the first to have an iPhone 4.

The worst part of the entire experience was that I actually enjoyed myself and I would venture to say most people in line had a great time as well. So I may have sipped on the Kool-Aid a bit, but to my credit, it tasted really refreshing. And so did the free coffee and scones they serve to everyone in line for breakfast and the bottled water and candy bars they delivered for snacks. A part of me even wished I could have stayed a longer when they started handing out sandwich wraps, but my dog was out of poop bags and I was too afraid of getting jumped in the parking lot if I didn't move quickly.

All that to say, movements take time. Brand development takes time. And anyone who wants the 'iPhone thing' to happen to them, better be in it for the long haul. Which (in my book) means you sure as hell better believe in what you're doing - whether or not you have people camping out at your doorstep.

the newbie

I went with a good friend of mine to a networking event last night. Typically I get a sick high off of working a room, but I have to admit, I was a little sheepish.

Ok, a lot sheepish. In fact, my introverted friend had to force me to introduce myself to someone.

Neither of us are used to being the "new people." And if we are, there is at least context to go with the conversation that makes things less ... awkward.

Take, for instance, a film festival. It may be in a new city and I may not know a soul (or anything about filmmaking for that matter), but we already have a foundation built for our conversation: film. I could talk about our film or any other film I happened to see that day. Hell, I could even BS my way through a basic "when I was on set" story.

But this ... this was different.

I felt like I was the person waiting for someone to come talk to me (and was hoping if anyone did approach us, they would set the topic of conversation so I didn't have to guess what was appropriate). Oh, and did I mention this group was for women entrepreneurs in L.A.? Talk about a broad subject base.

"So, what do you do?" Krysta

"Um. I run my own business." Member of aforementioned women's entrepreneur group

"Right." Krysta

No thanks. I'll pass on that dose of humiliation.

Luckily for my friend and I, another new (and much braver) attendee introduced herself and we had a fine conversation. We even exchanged business cards and vowed to check out her new tea shop in Hollywood.

And luckily for anyone who comes to an event I attend/lead in the future, I will be much more intentional about including you.

My suggestion to anyone reading: get out of your bubble if you haven't already. I mean ... really out of your bubble. You may learn a thing or two about yourself. For better or worse.

adults are liars

I had the good fortune of meeting a young lady this week for coffee.

She just finished her first year of undergrad and has enough passion to keep the city of L.A. lit for a good 25 years. If you would like to meet her (which would only be to your benefit) click here.

As we were sitting there, chatting away, I realized ... I'm 10 years older than her.

How did that happen? I mean, wasn't I just in undergrad myself? And how did I become the person offering career/life advice as if I've got it all figured out?

Then it came to me: Adults are liars.

There. I said it.

When I was 18, I was convinced I was going to change the world. So I met with older, wiser people about how I should prepare for that sort of undertaking.

They had no idea what to do with my gangly, frizzy-haired self. Thank God I ended up getting a "real" career mentor who wasn't afraid of my wild ideas and certainly never requested I be tamed.

I had a gazillion passions that I would later learn funneled back to a core belief that people just need permission to do what they were created to do. (Which, consequently requires a bit of branding and business acumen). But who can make money doing that, right?

As I was sitting there listening to mini-me (only much more intelligent and entrepreneurial than I ever was as 18), I couldn't help but think I don't belong at the big-kid table yet. And I don't think many others do either. Because we don't have it figured out anymore than we did 10 years ago. Our businesses, our lives and certainly the trajectory for our futures are messy and a bit blurry. Yet, the 28-year-olds I remember having conversations with when I was 18 had me convinced that they had it together.

And maybe that made them feel better about themselves ... for a few minutes. But if they were anything like I was the other day, they probably walked away wishing they were 18 again. When passion was plentiful and dreams were endless.

Either way, I've been revived. I was reminded of what it felt like to believe I could do anything. And more importantly, I was reminded that when you're doing what you could only have dreamed of at 18, it's time to start dreaming again.

Oh. And If you're younger than 38, I don't trust you to tell me the truth. God knows you don't have it figured out yet either.

still chasing

Not to be entirely pessimistic, but I'm beginning to think the whole notion of "following your dreams" has been a bit misleading.

I'll explain.

When I decided to go chasing down my pipe dreams, I didn't anticipate finding new ones in the process. As I realized there were more ways than one to exercise my passions, I found myself overwhelmed and confused by the seemingly endless possibilities.

Before I knew it, I was at a crossroads where the dream that had driven me to this new life was no longer the reason I chose to stay, leaving me paralyzed. I starting to ask myself, "Am I supposed to chase ALL of my dreams? Or do I keep moving forward with the first one ... ignoring all the shiny diversions?"

I keep looking back, wondering if these new dreams will have as much fuel to drive me to new and challenging places as the original one did. Or was that first dream born of an overtly passionate 20-something who, in her naivete, stepped unknowingly into something much larger than herself? Will this older 20-something, in her infinite wisdom about all things life (heavy sarcasm), ever be so naive as to make a leap so reckless again? Did she settle for the 'safer' of the two (devil's advocate. Starting your own company is never the safer of the two - economically. I'm talking emotional security here). I would over-think this so much if it were not for the nagging of the old dream that still lingers just below the surface.

After spending the weekend in Kansas with family and old friends, I was reminded of the passions that once laced every conversation and motivation. I definitely had a personal brand that led everyone to inquire about one thing ... music. And I couldn't help but wonder if I gave up too soon ... hiding behind realism and my ever-logical notion of not wanting to blend in with the crowd. Because, let's be honest, how could a girl from Kansas who doesn't write her own music or lead with her own guitar make it in the music industry without a distinct voice? I wouldn't even buy my records. So, I'd rather help you ... the talented one ... step onto a platform your worthy of. You know, be your manager or run the tour, which was always the fun business route.

But I'm not doing that either.

Not even a trace that initial dream in my current life. And if I were totally honest ... it makes me nauseous.

My point? I'm not sure if I have one. Other than some dreams don't seem to die as you become interested in others. And I'm just wondering if the ones that come back to haunt you are worth dusting back off and pursuing again, or if they are just another piece of nostalgia that remind of you of who you once were (which, by the way, is still a part of ... you). And just for the sake of finding some gray area, is there a way to merge the two? If not, I fear that "following my dreams" will make me even more ADD than I already am. Because, seriously, who only has one dream?

parenthood

So, the husband and I got a dog.

A really cute one.

In fact, she's throwing a ball to herself as we speak which I find especially endearing. Reminds of the only child who has an imaginary friend.

Anyway, we became parents rather suddenly. Some friends of some friends found said puppy on the side of an L.A. freeway. Through a series of events, she landed in our possession completely unharmed and full of energy.

We were thrilled ... a bit nervous ... and totally unprepared.

Which is what I would imagine "real" parenthood is like.

Aside from the sudden change in my daily routine, the duties of disciplining and potty training and the incessant picture taking when she does, yet another, super cute (fill in the blank) ... I've been humbled by the arrogance of a previous theory that children/pets are a reflection of their parents.

While in most cases this is, in fact, truth, I feel the greater epiphany lies in the idea that one shouldn't judge unless one has been there herself.

Parenting is hard. Even if what you are parenting is merely a 6-month-old puggle mutt. I can't imagine how we would have made it our first week without Google. And although I still hold to my belief that pet/child owners could be more responsible and lead with greater conviction ... there are just some things you're going to have to take the dirty looks for. Dirty looks that I will now be less generous with in Target if your two children are squeezing doggie toys or if your puppy pees on my floor.

would you be you if ...

If you lived in a different time period?

Seriously though.

I often wonder if I'd be as blunt if I lived in the 50's.

Would I have been so disgusted with racism before the civil rights movement had I lived then? Would I have done something about it?

Would I have had the opportunity to travel, to obtain a master's degree ... to even go to college?

What would my filmmaker husband be so passionate about if he were born in the late 1800's?

Makes me feel like we were created for this exact time in human history for a reason. (Yeah, I know ... maybe I should have been born in the 60's so I could have joined the rest of the New Age movement philosophers).

But seriously. Even if I didn't believe I'm here on this earth for a reason, I still can't help but wonder what I can do with the life I have that people before me could only dream of doing.

i'm back

The blog hiatus has ended.

Life quickly went from pre-wedding to wedding to honeymoon madness during my time away and I'm still not sure I have anything to report that would make much sense as I'm very much living life in a blur.

I was talking to a friend last night and said, "Before the wedding, I felt restless because I just wanted this new life to begin. The wedding was the only thing standing in the way of that and I poured myself into making it a good experience for everyone. When it was actually happening, I tried to do what everyone had told me, 'stop and take it all in because it goes by so quickly.' In fact, there were a few moments that I remember vividly because I stopped and just let it soak in. But now ... well ... what do I do now?"

With no job to go back to, no wedding to-do list to tackle ... I feel a very real lack of purpose. And as most of you know, my "work" has typically been used as a validator for my sense of self-worth. (That and a very unhealthy need for approval from other people). I digress.

I've gotten quite good at loading and unloading the dishwasher, putting clothes away, keep the plants watered and setting out meat to thaw for dinner. Which, to be honest, is impressive (for me). And in my first week back to reality, I've realized I have a lot to learn about being a wife - getting my husband's favorite donut right for starters. (For the record, it's a regular cake donut with regular icing and sprinkles, NOT chocolate icing.)

In the meantime, I'm trying to take advantage of this opportunity to figure out what my real contribution to this world is going to be. There's something about getting a new name that makes me feel like I have a clean slate ... like I have a choice for who I become (I know, I had a chance with the last name too. Humor me).

Even if it's an allusion, the idea of redefining life from a 'new me's' perspective is intriguing. So. I'm gonna run with it and see what happens. Maybe I'll run into the me I was created to be in the first place. Or maybe I'll realize that who I've been this whole time is exactly who I was meant to be. Either way, it's nice to have the space to explore.

Lessons on being resilient

Last week, a few things happened that reminded me how crucial the combination of resourcefulness AND resilience is in surviving major transitions.

1. The contract that had been pushed back until the fall of this year. (Read previous entry)

2. The bumper that fell off, which led to the misuse of hair ties and a roadside epiphany. (Again, refer to previous entry)

3. My busted teeth. So I've had some pretty intense pain in the last month in my lower gum region. I initially thought my wisdom teeth were choosing the most inopportune time to come in and wreak havoc, but then the pain became concentrated to a specific tooth. Since I've never had a cavity, I assumed I'd either need to have a filling or get a root canal (since I'm a dental expert and all). Knowing that I won't have insurance for another few weeks, I kept pushing it off ... that is ... until I spent an entire night with two bags of frozen peas on my face.

So, I called a family friend and she got me in to see her boss (aka ... the dentist). They took an xray and saw ... nothing. No cavity, thus, no root canal. And they didn't even see wisdom teeth. She suggested I start taking Advil and try to lessen my stress load.

Awesome.

4. Oh, on my way to said dentist office ... my check engine light came on. Yeah. I was in Orange County, already late to my appointment because I was lost and now my engine light was on.

"How does my car know it's being held together by hair ties?" Ugh.

I procede to the dentist, have them tell me I need to calm down, have lunch with the future mom-in-law to take a breather and then head to a mechanic who then told me he had never seen that code come up before and that I'd be fine. He went ahead and cleared my car's computer and the light has been off since. Thank God, because I had an engagement party to throw and a fiance's film shoot to support within 24 hours of my dental/engine escapade.

What's the point of all this?

Life happens. And sometimes it happens all at once ... the good and the bad. I've always been pretty good at snapping back, but I have to admit ... this kind of stuff can make a person crazy. So, my suggestions when life happens (in an overwhelming "I'm getting married in less than a month, my teeth hurt and I don't have insurance, I'm not making any money and I have bills and my bumper just fell off " kind of way) ...

1. Re-evaluate finances and shuffle things around a bit. You may even need to ask for help (gulp)

2. Remember to keep hair ties handy OR make lemonade by offering your busted up car to a nice group of filmmakers who were looking for just this kind of prop for their car crash scene in a film so conveniently shooting the week of the incident.

3. Don't grind your teeth ... it causes inflammation and soreness. Oh, and shell out the money to take care of your body. I know times are tough, but times will always be tough when you're choosing between xrays and a mariachi band for your wedding's cocktail hour. So suck it up and pay for the tests.

4. There are things we just can't control. And as someone who likes to fret over those things specifically, I'm going to go on record and say, "it doesn't help." Grab a beverage of choice, some chocolate, maybe even a nice bubble bath and give yourself an hour to just calm the heck down. Because we all know this too shall pass ;)

Lessons on being resourceful

Today a few things happened that reminded me, being resourceful may be the only way I survive self-employment.

1. A contract that had been signed by a client, was retracted until the fall. Putting not only a huge financial strain on me personally for the coming months, but also reminding me that putting all my eggs in one basket ... not so much a great idea. So my frantic fingers went to work emailing every lead I've ever had and calling as many people as possible to get face time with people who may be interested in my product.

2. My bumper fell off this week. Yeah. We were able to put it back on with zip ties and it's actually quite sturdy. Except for one piece ... apparently. Which I realized as I was on the 22 freeway heading back from a meeting with aforementioned client. I pulled over, thinking I'd find that my entire bumper was dragging underneath my car. Alas, it was just a flap of it hitting my front tire. In my cute green heels and trendy little outfit, I kneeled under my car, surveyed the damage and decided two hair ties would have to do the job. And they did.

My point? First of all ... I just put my car back together with hair ties. Let's be honest ... that's pretty amazing. Not the safest, but definitely impressive.

Second ... being resourceful could very well be the one thing that separates you from the people who have consistent work and ... secure bumpers. Today was just enough to remind me that this trait will be my lifeline as an independent contractor and driver without AAA.

Here's to life's lemons ...

God

I've been thinking about these two questions a lot lately:

What do I think of God?

Who do I think He is?

I don't know if you watch Dexter, but if you do, you may understand where my growing paranoia with all things terrifying may come from.

I have escape plans. Lots of them. You can never be too prepared for a home-invasion.

But this deeply rooted fear that something bad is going to happen ... especially because my life is just a little too good to be true ... has consumed me. It causes me to spend time thinking of exit strategies and living in fear of what's around the corner or behind the shower curtain more than living in joy or celebration of the moment.

Now, you may be thinking, "then just stop watching that stupid show." And, while I would agree that it certainly doesn't help ... the show and it's influence are not my biggest concerns.

My concern is that what I think about God and who I think He is plays a much larger role in my living in fear.

I would love to blame it on the fire and brimstone sermons I heard as a kid. Or the youth group revival talks where they say you can be hit by a car and die when you walk out of church that night (just to scare kids into accepting Christ). And who knows, that may very well have played a role.

But I'm 27 years old. I have a brain of my own and, consequently, can think for myself.

I'm fully aware people go to school and become religious leaders to guide people like me in my thinking of the subject. I just feel a little thinking and digging for myself was a more viable option.

So. I went to a Bible study.

Yes ... a legit Bible study with a bunch of really cool girls my age. They aren't like the people I used to be in Bible study with. They're more ... honest ... real ... raw (can I say that?).

Anyway. We were reading Galatians 5. And I started to squirm a little. It took me a few times of reading through it to realize I could interact with the Scripture in a different way than I had done before.

I'm going to be real honest here. My most intimate interactions with the Bible came out of judgement. I was either trying to prove why I was right (and spending hours finding one measly verse that would validate my opinion) or trying to prove someone else's actions were wrong (and there are PLENTY of "Christian Living" books that helped me out there). I would occasionally stumble on passages that blew my mind and gave me a glimpse on how I should have been acting ... but I mostly used it as a metric for rules.

Let me tell you what I learned though.

The first sentence of this chapter is about freedom. God must care about freedom ... What I think of God and who I think He is did not jive with that. To me, he is a God of judgement. I remember being told multiple times that Satan only pays attention to people who are a threat to his mission. I used to think all my adversities could be attributed to the fact that I was doing something so detrimental to the work of evil in this world that obstacles were being thrown my way to deter me.

So. When things started going well for me ... I stopped reading the Bible and being so forward about my "religion." Why? Because I was tired. I was tired of the bad stuff and figured I'd lay low for a while on this whole God thing. I'd still talk to God and serve people and do all those moral things you're supposed to do ... But I certainly didn't want to be noticed. I'm not sure I had the energy for it anymore if that whole theory really was right.

But what this did eventually, was make me feel like I wasn't in the game. And in this passage it says, "You were running well; who hindered you from obeying the truth?"

Uh. Well ...

Your people. Those who claim to be "followers" kind-of left me a little jaded by this whole God thing. And I've just been trying to follow the rules close enough so I don't get yelled at. And what is truth anyway?

God is a God of rules. Lots of them.

Except, if you REALLY read this passage ... He's notsomuch. Because back in the day, all the churchy people kept this whole God thing reserved for people who were exactly like them. It was like a little club or secret society. It wasn't for people on the outside ... and God wasn't having it. It's obvious His "people" didn't quite get that ... but He made sure to repeat Himself until they started to catch on.

So. God is a God of equality. Everyone matters. Everyone.

The kicker: People who love God, are full of what He calls the fruit of the Spirit. I can recite these in my sleep (thanks Sunday school). But the one that stuck out ... Joy. I don't see that a lot. Especially in the traditional church. And if I do ... it's the creepy Christian kind-of joy that makes me feel like I'm in some weird cult.

But joy. Pure joy. I'd like that.

And if maybe I trusted God (which I think is the zinger here) ... I mean, really trusted Him and believed that His intentions aren't to test me or send me threw the ringer ... I may live more intentionally and certainly less fearful. Even if the possibility of the final episode of season 4's Dexter is possible ...

So, what do you think of God?

When you become the person you've been running from

You either embrace it full on or continue fighting it.

Housewife. Business owner.

I always wanted one and ran from the other. You've got a 50/50 shot at which was which.

I never thought the two would ever coincide. My goal wasn't to come up with a business that could be reflected in a stereotypical female role. I was going to play a man's game in a man's world. Which, left no room for things like baking and cleaning house. I never pretended I could be super woman, so I chose one and ran with it while running from the other.

The sweet smell of a freshly dry cleaned suit, stillettoe pumps and a leather satchel... Ahhhh.

But I've found myself in a rather awkward position: working from home.

Yes. That means I've taken to baking and cooking more in between research and meetings. And while I'm doing it, I have to admit it feels liberating. Not super tasty quite yet... But liberating nonetheless to try something so unnatural and new.

When it's just me and my wisk... I own it. And when I'm alone ... you may even catch me with a smile on my face while I watch the batter rise or the chicken brown.

The second vince (or anyone else walks in for that matter) the gig is up. This isn't comfortable for me. I haven't practiced this part. My natural position ... In a conference room. Not behind the stove. And I've made that very clear. You know ... so that there is no confusion that I'm not like other people. (because apparently that has been super important to me)

So. When any mention of how I can improve comes up, or even suggestions for maximizing efficency (which i usually appreciate) ... I lose it. I feel entirely too vulnerable. Naked. Completely exposed to the world that I'm just like every other woman to ever fall blindly into their 'role.' And I am reminded that I'm not particularly good at this... At least not yet. And the truth ... I hate being a weak link.

So, in my mental panic and after I've made a complete fool of myself (and perhaps even burnt something), I remember that I have a choice. I can either define what this whole being a woman, nearly married with a career ahead of her looks like. Or I can live in the fear that I will become ... A stereotype that was probably defined in the first place by people who haven't a clue to begin with and just like seeing girls like me freak out on a regular basis.

Tonight, I chose first to retaliate in fear.

I'm really hoping to get over that before I miss out on a chance to create my own definitions for the roles I choose to play. Or, at the very least, maybe I'll learn to give myself permission to experiment with these "gender specific" roles in case I've mis-perceived its excitement all along.

do you feel taller?

My parents used to ask me that every year on the morning of my birthday.

This morning ... Vince asked me and my response, "a little. But I'm wearing heels ..." It's always a nice reminder that each year brings growth ...

26 was a year that would catalyze some really big changes in my life.

I traveled ... gave more of my heart to the places I love around the globe.

I went home more which ultimately led to a greater appreciation for the things/people that I grew up with. And also reminded me that I have the power to create my own future.

I got engaged which has brought me to a new level of hormonal imbalance, fear and reckless abandon all in the name of love.

I have acquired a love for most things domestic. Call it "nesting" or my biological clock ticking feverishly (and ... I would argue ... prematurely), but I freaking love baking and playing host.

I became a pseudo home-owner. Meaning ... I invested but don't have to help Vince with the mortgage ... at least not until April.

I quit my job to pursue a life-long dream of being the boss. I'll let you know in 6 months how that's working out!

I learned a lot this year. I digressed ... but at least feel that I'm learning. From both the successes and failures.

I was cleaning out some boxes the other day and came across a dream book. It was something I threw together throughout the years of images from magazines that I only dreamed would one day represent my life.

Most of the images were of couples ... not doing anything in particular but clearly in love. Others were of floor plans for homes that will have to remain there until I become a millionaire. But something struck me about the whole book. I always thought 27 would be the best year ... that somehow it would be the year I could look back and be proud of where I had been and what I had become. That 27 would be the beginning of an entirely new era of what my life was meant to be and what I'm capable of. And to be honest ... I'm feeling like that may just be where I am.

So ... here's to you 26 ... for being full of lessons and adventure.

To 27 ... let's do this. ;)

being human

[This from Anne Jackson's website -- guest blogger Seth Godin.]

Why is it so difficult to be human?

What does it mean to be human anyway?

A key part of being a real person – a human being – is showing up, especially when it’s difficult, particularly when it’s frightening to do so.

Showing up counts for a lot. Why? Because it’s scarce.

Someone who will comfort you on the phone in the middle of the night, then throw on a bathrobe and drive to your house. That’s precious.

Someone who tells you the truth.

Someone who exposes herself, is present, connected and willing to let you hurt them.

These are the things we seek out as people, and yet we rarely find them. And yet we are rarely willing to be this person.

We built institutions, organizations and religions to make it easy to avoid being this person. The rules and principles and jobs and buildings and code words and admonitions… they all exist to protect us from the truths we’re afraid of and from the interactions we’d rather not have.

They organize us, and organization is a wonderful way to be protected.

We go to work and we hide. We hide behind the religion of our brand or our team or our Dunder-Mifflin employee manual. We go to a foreign country and we play tourist, because actually going there is too difficult, too risky, to exposed.

Showing up counts for a lot.

When we show up, we connect, we make change, we are transparent, and yes, we’re human.

Caring hurts sometimes, and that’s inconvenient.

The good news is that more than ever, value accrues to those that show up, those that make a difference, those that do work that matters.

The good news is that digging deep and fighting that voice that begs us to shut up instead of show up really pays off now, in more ways than we can count.

Faith in yourself, in your friends, in your colleagues and most of all, faith in your ability to impact our future is the best strategy I know.

—-

Seth Godin’s new book LINCHPIN comes out today. It’s about art and gifts and connection and making a difference. And you should really read it because it’s really great

new ventures

Since I can remember, my grandpa's office was a make-shift playground. After hours and on the weekends, I would sit in his big leather chair and open the top drawer to find an assortment of pens and highlighters that would soon be used to scribble my thoughts on neon post it notes. I attribute my obsession for office supplies to growing up around his fully stocked office.

He had the corner office for years at his company until he and his two partners decided to join each other in a shared office upstairs overlooking the shop. While I preferred the corner office, the joint loft provided new toys to play with, like drafting tables with lights that would illuminate the blue prints scattered across the room.

I loved being able to have the vantage point from the glass wall of their loft looking over the shop. There was something inspiring about the work that happened from their chairs that was somehow translated to the work happening below.

I would always go down to the shop and get a glass bottle of Coke from the old vending machine. My uncle and father's offices were out there and it was always an adventure to weave in and out of sheet metal sparks to the plumbing sparks where I'd find dad and uncle Chris working on, yet another, side project after hours.

Between the smell of grease and sweat of that shop and the scent of burned coffee and stale air in the office, I became passionate about business. And I'm not sure I realized how much that impacted me until this past month ...

It began with an email from my grandfather late one evening that said the gentleman who had bought his company had been found dead at his home.

I'm not sure why it shook me as much as it did, but I do know it caused me to reevaluate a few things. And in my first week of self-employment, the first of many risks I will surely take as a business woman myself, the step back couldn't have been more timely.

As I gather my own drawer of pens, post it notes, clients and work that I am passionate about, I need to remember that there are more important things in life than ... work. And I'll be the first to admit that concept doesn't come easy for me.

I have a lot going on in the coming months that could cause me to make hasty decisions about the foundation of my business. If I've learned anything from my grandpa's office and his colleagues death, it's that a company will provide an endless supply of distractions ... and it's my job to make sure they don't interfere with life and the stuff that really matters.

napping

I was fully prepared to write a blog about how difficult it is to be a 20-something.

Seemingly so many pressures. Countless decisions to be made that may or may not lead us in the right trajectory to be successful 30-somethings. Not to mention feeling like everyone else around us is getting all these opportunities to do what we could only hope to do at some point in our careers.

It's exhausting. And ultimately discouraging if you think about it for too long. But after a few conversations this weekend, I feel more hopeful about the future of my friend's careers. No, not mine, but certainly other people's. And while I hold up hope for them, it may bode me well to follow the advice below for my own internal quarter life crisis:

We are the strivingest people who have ever lived. We are ambitious, time-starved, competitive, distracted. We move at full velocity, yet constantly fear we are not doing enough. Though we live longer than any humans before
us, our lives feel shorter, restless, breathless...

Dear ones, EASE UP. Pump the brakes. Take a step back. Seriously. Take two steps back. Turn off all your electronics and surrender over all your aspirations and do absolutely nothing for a spell. I know, I know – we all need to save the world. But trust me: The world will still need saving tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re going
to have a stroke soon (or cause a stroke in somebody else) if you don’t calm the hell down.

So go take a walk. Or don’t. Consider actually exhaling. Find a body of water and float. Hit a tennis ball against a wall. Tell your colleagues that you’re off meditating (people take meditation seriously, so you’ll be absolved from guilt) and then actually, secretly, nap.

My radical suggestion? Cease participation, if only for one day this year – if only to make sure that we don’t lose forever the rare and vanishing human talent of appreciating ease. Elizabeth Gilbert

I'll admit that my natural response would be, "There are plenty of people in this world taking naps. I, on the other hand, have work to do. You with me?" But lately, I'm kind-of feeling (and hoping) she's right. Would it KILL me to calm the hell down? I mean, really. Would it kill any of us 20-somethings to just exhale for a second and realize we're doing ok ... honestly. We aren't failures.

Maybe we could try and enjoy what we've got now ... because something tells me our idea of "making it" may not be a walk in the park either.

So. Here's to naps and actually breathing ... you know ... the inhaling AND exhaling kind.

imagination station

I've felt a lot of anxiety over this "first post" of the new year (and 300th post of my blogging existence). There seems to be so much pressure to write something profound given the circumstances, but I think what I've come to is this ...

I've lost the imaginative spirit I once had as a child and I'd like to reclaim it.

We can all agree that proper schooling and societal pressures have caused most of us to forgo colored pencils and opt for spread sheets and mahogany desks. Even some of the bohemians out there feel that their creativity has become stifled by clients who can't seem to catch the vision.

None of this really occurred to me until I watched Avatar.

I know. I know. Another post on movies ... in particular one of the most talked about films of 2009. But hear me out.

As I sat in the theater I found myself, on multiple occasions, completely lost in the world James Cameron and his technologically inclined friends created. I wanted to be there. And for a few moments I was so captivated that I actually thought that world existed.

When I snapped out of it, I was pretty irritated. Not just because I had to face a reality void of floating jelly fish things and surfaces that light up at the touch, but because I haven't (even in the depths of my imagination) come close to an imaginary life like that since I was in grade school. And let's be honest ... even then I usually dreamed of castles, motes and cool dresses.

Even worse, my imagination a few years ago of the life I'd have today was nothing more than a block buster rom-com script in which I would (hopefully) play the leading lady.

I mean, really? Is that honestly the best I could do with a brain capable of so much more? Let me tell you, my life is so much cooler than any Meg Ryan script I dreamed of years ago. So why haven't I unleashed my imagination to the possibilities of what the next few years may look like?

I realized after my Avatar experience, that there is something kind-of deep happening here.
1. I feel guilty for dreaming of too great of a life (or having too great of a life, for that matter) because so many others don't.
2. I don't really believe those things are meant for someone like me ...
3. Even if I let myself go crazy and "dream" ... it doesn't go much farther than the best of what has already been done.

I'm tired of only imagining a life of greater possibility within the confines of what already exists. What if the life I want to create for myself ... a life that lets me be the truest of who I am ... hasn't been created yet? What if it's my job to dream it up ... to imagine it? And to create a space for others to join with me in the process of creating a future full of possibilities that go beyond the genius of Apple's products, Google's workspace and even James Cameron's Avatar ...

I'm a little rusty at this, so it'll definitely take practice, but I'm thinking 2010 will be full of possibilities for me that I've never considered. And even if they don't come into fruition ... I'll at least have a happy place that will keep me hopeful until something does!