Category Archives: Uncategorized

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The freedom to walk away

There is a certain freedom in giving up on something.

On taking one last, long, regretful look at it and saying “You know what? I’ve given it my all. I’ve tried. It’s not going to change, no matter how much more time and effort I put into it.”

And then you take the steps needed to walk away.

My parents drilled into me an exceptionally strong work ethic. No matter how hard or tough or bad or unpleasant something became, no matter how dark and deep that water was getting, you never gave up. You kept trying to improve it, change it into something better, for yourself and everyone else involved in it. You just hunkered down and gave it your all, to invoke the cliche.

But sometimes, your all just isn’t enough. You spend a solid year working on something, you try to solve it, you devote hundreds of extra hours to it – and in the end, there’s nothing more you can do about it.

Because the other parties involved don’t want it to change.

When you hit that wall (hopefully not at an excessive speed), continuing the effort isn’t adhering to a good work ethic, it’s just being plain stupid. You have to accept that the situation isn’t going to change.

And then decide whether to stay – or move on.

In one area of my life, I now accept that I have to walk away. I’ve poured my heart, my energy, my not-inconsiderable intelligence and experience and creativity into it. It’s been a year. I took a hard look at it again today and realized – nothing has changed. Nothing will change. The power to change it is not within my control. The parties who have that control look at the situation and either don’t see the change that’s needed – or see it and, frankly, just don’t care to change it.

It’s the classic case of “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.”

When that happens, you can do one of two things. The solution so many people seem to choose is ‘close your mouth and endure in silence.’ And many situations warrant that approach – because they offer enough benefits in exchange for the inconvenience, annoyance and/or hardship to be endured.

That’s not the case here.  There are benefits, but honestly, I saw today that they don’t outweigh what I’ll have to continue dealing with if I continue on this course.  Having led the horse to the pond, it’s just standing here, looking at me.  I know it’s not going to drink. It may stand there forever, or it may choose to bite me.

It goes against my every instinct, but I have to say – it’s time. Time to change what I can control, which is my interaction, my continued participation, with it.

I realized that around 6 this evening. I expected to feel sad, to feel regret, to feel grief.

I didn’t expect to feel happy.

But I do. I gave it everything, and I can walk away without regret. The relief of having finally made a decision about it, of having accepted that it is futile to keep trying, is incredible.

Now I just have to stick to my resolution and walk as fast as I can.

This is me walking very fast.

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Spring-cleaning, green(ish)-style

The approaching snowstorm notwithstanding, spring will arrive in 15 days. It’s time to start that annual optimistic exercise known as spring-cleaning.

Every year, I spend a few days cleaning out my apartment before spring. I vacuum down walls and shampoo carpets. Invest time in waxing and polishing all the furniture. Turn mattresses, wash slipcovers, wax floors. And inevitably, in sorting through a few closets and drawers, I pull out some items which are broken, or no longer needed. And usually, those items get thrown out.

But our landfills are taking over the countryside, filled with discarded items containing toxic substances that could pollute our environment. Charities in the area are always in need of household goods and spare clothing. And there are some things that I’ve bought, or been given, that I never/no longer need, that could be sold and the funds used to better purposes.

And so I have decided to spend the next four weeks in a deeper form of spring-cleaning, “green(ish)” style. I’m going to go through every closet, every drawer, every item in storage. I will be ruthless in my culling — if I haven’t used it, read/watched it or even thought about it for at least a year, it will be up for disposition.

But instead of throwing things out, I’m going to see how many of these items can be recycled, either by sale or donation.

Some things will be easy to handle. Clothing, books, entertainment media — these items can all be either resold at used stores or donated to libraries, charities or shelters. Old computers or televisions can be taken to a recycling facility.

But then what do I do with old furniture? I don’t have a curb to place it on, so that people driving by can take it and give it a better home. I have a plentiful supply of knick knacks, those little gifts that inevitably turn up as presents at birthdays and holidays. Can I list them on Craigslist? Or can they be donated to a charity that can resell them and earn much-needed cash?

My goal is to recycle/donate/sell at least 75% of my discarded items. Stay tuned for updates!

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Springtime Resolutions

I’ve made some ‘springtime’ resolutions, to replace the two New Year’s resolutions that I made — and promptly fulfilled.  If I could do those two things, those two very hard things, then I should be able to accomplish so much more.   So, for this spring, I will:

1.  Pay more attention to my career.

2.  Explore the area.  I’ve been to most of the United States — and yet, there are still so very many interesting places in the Philadelphia area that I haven’t seen.

3.  Get back in shape.  I’ve been attempting this one for two years, but this year will be different.  Because I’m not doing it alone, and I have a very powerful reason for doing it.

4.  Blog often.  Enough said.

5.  Knit out the stash.  Have yarn.  Found projects to match that yarn.  Now I just need to find the time to actually knit.

6.  Publish a book.  I’ve been writing, both original and fan fiction, for years.   I recently started expanding on a couple of those works, and realized that I could self-publish at least one, and see what people think of my writing.

7.  Re-organize my online life.  I’ve got accounts just everywhere.  But I can’t really spend all my life online, now can I?

8.  Learn a new language.  I once was fluent in several, but I’ve lost that edge.  Time to get it back.

9.  Break my habit.  I have this thing I do — not a bad thing, just a habit that I’ve long since outgrown.

And in 90 days, we’ll see how many of those I accomplish.

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Spring is coming . . .

At least I hope so. No one’s told the flowers about the maybe-snow storm next week. On my way into work this week I kept passing a house with green shoots of something poking through the dirt. This morning I finally got a better look.

Snowdrops. The first flowers of spring.

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Which led to the realization that in my enthusiasm at my promotion, and the accompanying increase in the workload, I have been neglecting this blog. No more. Let’s see if I can write something here for, oh, the next 111 days.

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The trees know . . .

 

Trees must know when a bad storm is coming.  That’s the only explanation I have for what hapened yesterday.

My apartment complex is a lovely place to live.  We have wide lawns, a lovely stream winding its way through the center of the complex, and a lot of trees.  Pines, hollies, willows, elms and maples — and towering, majestic oaks that line our parking lots and tower over the buildings.

The oaks are my favorites.  They herald spring by being the first trees to show buds, even though they tend to leaf out later than the other trees.  In summer, they provide shade to the buildings and the cars, lowering the temperatures of our humidity-prone region.  Once fall arives, their leaves turn a wonderful, deep red-brown that provides a background for the fiery orange of the maples.  And winter turns them into fairy trees, their branches glistening in the night when are draped with snow.

They also produce bumper crops of acorns, which attract pesky squirrels that eat my plants,  Their beauty is worth the inconvenience of the squirrels.

However, the oaks tend to be the last trees to drop their leaves, often burdened with dried, brown leaves well into December.

And so they were on Saturday.  The entrance to my building is flanked by two of the larger oaks, and at the start of the weekend, their branches were still covered with masses of leaves.

Sunday morning, as I walked out of the building, I saw that both trees were almost bare, and the grass and parking lot were filled with drifting piles of brown leaves.  That scene was repeated throughout the complex — overnight, all the oaks had lost most of their leaves.

One of the biggest concerns in my area with Hurricane Sandy is the strength of the winds.  With so many trees still full of leaves, the powerful winds of this storm are anticipated to knock major limbs off trees, dropping them onto buildings and electric lines, damaging homes and knocking out power.  And our oaks lean right over the buildings.

So did the trees know a hurricane was coming?  Maybe.  In all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never seen so many leaves fall in so short a time.  And hopefully, that will make a difference in how the trees, and our buildings, make it through the storm.

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She’s baaack!

Having survived both the nasty bug and the joy that is corporate tax season (I do corporate taxes, among other things), I now resume the irregularly scheduled updating.  Actually, more regularly scheduled updating, as things have quieted down a bit.  That won’t last long.

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A public thank you

Today is my birthday, and looking back, I have so much for which to be grateful.  And so, in a bit of a rambling entry, because I’m still recovering from this bug-thing, let me say thank you for the important things in my life.

My family, to start.  My parents both worked, on opposite shifts, so that they could provide the best possible life for their children.  My father has never, ever, let a setback keep him down long.  He goes over, around, throughit to get to where he needs to be.  My mother was incredibly smart, and she taught me to never stop learning, to explore everythin that interests you, no matter how obscure.  To this day, my brother hints, nudges, and will outright push me to make sure I succeed.  And my grandparents demonstrated exactly how much you could do even if you only had a little bit of money or a second-grade education.

I received an excellent education, went to Catholic grade and high schools, with an emphasis on college-preparatory courses — and the tuition was not cheap for my parents.  They covered part of my college education and sent me to Penn State’s main campus, where I studied journalism, then on to a paralegal course.  And my father supported me through four years of a law school evening program, and then another two years of a master’s program, with words of encouragement, and love, and yes, nagging when he felt I was maybe waivering a bit.

My friends, online and in the real world, are fantastic.  They are with me through sorrow, and joy, with advice, and tissues and chocolate when needed.  They never ask what I need — they know.  And the simple fact that they are there, that I can call them for help, or to talk, or just pull them out for an adventure, means the world to me.

I’ve been fortunate enough to work with very smart people and to have a wonderful mentor.  People who showed every day the right way to do things, how to make a solid plan for any situation, and how to deal when the plan falls through.  How to juggle thirty tasks in one day with the two screaming emergencies that walked through the door around noon.  And most importantly, how to face the defeat everyone inevitably experiences at some point in life with courage and class.

By this birthday, I’ve been to 37 of the United States.  Not just flying visits.  I’ve explored the Wisconsin Dells and the Grand Canyon, the entire Eastern Coast and the beautiful mountains of New England.  Wandered the streets of Chicago and Baltimore, Philadelphia and Boston, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Savannah, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Richmond, DC, San Diego, Los Angeles and Phoenix.  Stood in awe before phenomenal museum exhibits, like the original King Tut tour, manmade monuments like Mount Rushmore — and Thoroughbreds with names that echo in the record books.  Some of this was thanks to my parents, and their belief that a vacation was a time to see something or somewhere new and exciting (and also thanks to an almost godlike patience for driving two bickering siblings in a car eight hours at a time).  That sense of adventure now inculcated in me, I still pick a spot and go — and as a result, have seen how wonderful a country we live in.

And most of all, there are the amazing things that happened for no reason but the best of reasons.  Things that I needed that just appeared — like a new sofa when I was unemployed and mine collapsed.  My neighbor was moving overseas — and offered me her brand-new sofa.  The person who called out of the blue with an offer, somone I didn’t know, but had been directed to me by a contractor with whom I’d briefly worked years ago.  The unexpected check that just arrives in the mail — a refund on an overpayment from a closed account — at a time when I’d just gotten a large bill for a car repair.  To who, or what, makes those things happen — thank you.

So, rambling a bit, courtesy of the heavy prescription I’m on.  But I did want to take the opportunity to say a public thank you for everyone I’ve known, and everything I’ve received, throughout my life.  I’ve been blessed.

Tomorrow, when I’m told the effects should finally be wearing off, I’ll be posting this year’s tasks.  It’s — an interesting list.

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Excerpts from a (life) list

The first step to creating a new life for yourself is deciding what you want that life to be, which is a lot easier than it sounds.  Particularly if you want that life to be many things, at once.  The most organized start to that process is to make a list.

So over the last two weeks, I’ve been doing just that.  Jotting down things I want to accomplish or change, places to which I would like to travel, skills I intend to master. Tonight, I’m going to share a few of them with you, and I’m going to create a master page to keep track of them.

Early tomorrow morning, the Blue Moon meets the Full Moon.  I took a long walk tonight and admired the moon.  Not particularly blue in hue, but spectacularly white in a dark blue and, for once, clear sky sprinkled with stars.  Most of the full moons in 2012 have been obscured by Philadelphia’s rainy winter, spring and summer.

And so, without further delay, Ten Things I’d Like to Do:

1.  Spend a solstice at Stonehenge.  I have been fascinated with Stonehenge since I first saw a picture in my grade schoool history book.  At the time, being enamored of King Arthur, I whole-heartedly embraced the “Merlin built Stonehenge” legends, and decided that somehow, I was going to travel all the way to England (a far distance for someone from my little town) and walk among the stones.  Over the years, I’ve religiously watched every special on the circle and read every article with the latest scientific discoveries about its construction.  While I’m thrilled to see how much we have learned since my school days, I was disappointed to learn that you can’t actually walk within the stones.  Except on the summer solstice.   Whatever other purpose(s) Stonehenge was meant to serve — monument, burial site, religious or healing center — it has continued to faithfully show us that crucial moment when summer truly begins.  And so I want to stand there, among the crowd, and feel that magical moment when the sun touches the stones.

2.  Relearn archery.  No, this isn’t listed here because I want to be Robin Hood or Katniss or Legolas or Hawkeye (although he is my favorite Marvel character).  I learned basic archery in college, and fell in love with it, not just because of the romance associated with a bow and arrow (see, Robin Hood et al above).  For me, it was the concentration, the focus, the fact that it uses virtually your whole body to achieve the goal of hitting one little spot on a target.  Drawing, aiming — it’s a form of moving meditation.  As an often-distracted, overworked college student, the peace I found in that hour-long class was a treasure beyond price.  A feeling I want to recapture in my life today.

3. Attend Comic-Con.  While we’re on the subject of Marvel, like probably half the world, I want to attend Comic-Con. I often joke that I need to time a visit to my company’s California operations to coincide with the Con, but I haven’t managed it yet.  As someone who devours comic books, fantasy movies and science fiction TV shows, Comic-Con just had to be on my list.  Enough said about it.

4.  Run a marathon.  I used to run regularly, both in college and for years afterward, until I injured my knee dodging a car that was careening towards me.  As the carrot waiving in front of me on my quest to get back in shape, I’ve decided I want to someday run/jog/fast walk a marathon.  It’s a test of fitness, but even more so, of willpower.  I see the fact that I can stick to my healthy eating plan, work out regularly, start getting in shape, as steps to building up my willpower so I can run that incredible distance.

5.  Draw a picture.  Right about now you’re wondering — what?  The fact is, my stick figures don’t really look like stick figures.  I can paint an abstract image, or copy something out by tracing it, but when it comes to free-form pencil or ink drawings that are recognizable as people, animals or even an apple, well, let’s just say my drawings would make Picasso proud.  It’s a matter of training my eye, I’ve been told.  And since there is a project I want to do that involves a lot of drawing, I will need to train my eye soon so that I can begin the work.  Failure is not an option here, as this one task is a step to a second, larger task, which then goes even further to a very large project.

6.  Spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square.  Something I’ve attempted to do for — years.  Decades?  I’ve made at least five separate plans to head up to New York for the big event, and each time, something happened to someone in the group and we ended up watching it all on TV.  I will get there — if I keep trying, eventually I will get there, right?

7.  Attend an opera. I think I was about ten years old when I saw my first opera — Die Fledermaus on PBS.   I was in love.  The costumes, the staging, the voices.  I sat enthralled when Der Ring des Nibelungen was broadcast over several nights.  Over the years, I’ve caught various operas on various stations — but I’ve never seen an opera live.  I’ve attended I-don’t-know-how-many rock concerts, classical concerts, Tanglewood events, plays and musicals, but I’ve never attended the opera.  I want to dress up, sit in one of those tiny and uncomfortable seats and watch as people with enchanted voices bring Wagner or Verdi or Strauss to life.

8.  Learn to juggle.  On a daily basis, I successfully juggle projects, clients and outside agencies.  I have not, however, managed to master the art of juggling small objects in the air.  That egg will be tossed up, and it might survive the first pass from left to right hand — but ten seconds later it’s a mess on the floor.   I spent a half an hour on a street corner in New York watching a juggler and wishing I had that level of dexterity.  The fact is, I do — or at least I could.  I can maneuver tiny knitting needles, fold an origami crane and sew tiny little stitches on costumes.  I’ve decided that, if I can do those things, I should be able to move past the dropped egg stage and learn to juggle.

9.  Work on an archeological dig.  I originally planned to study anthropology/archeology, but discovered I was allergic to the dust.  It’s hard to maintain an efficient and accurate dig site when you’re sneezing all over it.  And so I switched to journalism, and then made my way into law and business.  But I’ve always harbored a sneaking desire to go back and put a few of those early lessons to use.  What to others would seem tedious, bent over a tiny square of earth, delicately moving grains of dirt to see if there’s anything under them, is the same to me as waiting for Christmas morning and the joy of opening a present.  You never knew just what Santa had brought for you — and you never know just what is hidden in the next layer of soil.  Whether it be here in the US on a small, local dig, or somewhere exotic like Greece or Russia, I want, at least once, to experience the profession I had hoped to call my own.  And no, the allergy isn’t a problem any longer — I outgrew it.

10. Make an origami menagerie.  Years ago, I learned how to fold a crane, the symbol of peace.  I’ve made a number of them over the years for holiday decorations.  But there are hundreds of other animals, floewers and symbols that can be folded from beautiful paper, and I want to learn how to make more than just the elegant crane.  Tigers and dragons, hawks and owls, whales, flowers and stars, made from delicately-colored and patterned paper or brilliantly-hued metallic foil, can delight the recipient, amuse the maker and instantly turn a bad mood into a joyful one.   It’s an art form that I think is brilliant — all you need is a square of paper and your imagination.

Twas the ‘eve of Full Moon,

And all through the house,

My imagination was stirring,

With dreams bigger than a mouse.

Yes, I’m not that great at writing poetry.  Hopefully, I”m better at accomplishing things on my list!

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I hate photographs

LinkedIN.  The place to network and begin my search for a new position.  I planned out my profile, made a list of contacts with whom to network and — realized I needed a picture.

Oh joy.  I hate being photographed.

I don’t photograph well.  I don’t know why.  I can stand in front of two hundred people and deliver an extemporaneous speech without any preparation, a speech that will amuse and educate the audience, and I have the trophies from college to prove how good I am at that art.  I have no trouble circulating at parties and striking up conversations with people I’ve never seen before (and who may not even have a language in common with me!).

But if you wave a camera at me, I freeze.  My face assumes this awful, rigid pseudo-smile that looks as if someone’s performing a root canal on me, without anesthetic, while simultaneously beating me with a bat.  My eyes take on that stereotypical deer-in-headlights looks, the one you see right before you plow over the deer with your car and send it to Bambi heaven.  I stiffen, I don’t breathe, I can’t relax.  I’m facing my own private firing squad and I can’t find it in me to be happy.

Why? No idea.  It does explain, though, why I so rarely visit my Facebook page.  Why post if you’re never going to show your actual face there?

Think I’m joking? You should see my passport photo and driver’s identification.  I look like a three-day old corpse in one, and a serial killer in the other. 

But my aversion to having my photo snapped will not be permitted to hold me back from my life.  The solution struck me as I was discussing college applications with a friend’s daughter. 

A professional photographer.  Get a formal portrait taken, one that can be used for LinkedIn.  I’ve booked a date, and meanwhile will put up the profile sans photo. 

And pray that I look like a sane, responsible person in the photo.