Writing for Fun, and then Not The first item on my to-do list for the past (hmm, last post was on the 10th, so that would be) two weeks has been “publish blog post.” Good thing I moved on to item two, or I would have missed flossing, paying bills, and seeing the super-moon rise over the ocean. Blogging was so much fun when I started those few short months ago, amid the 1/1/11 hoopla. The atta-girls weren’t so bad, either. But in no time, the pleasure of posting daily became the chore of posting a few times a week, quickly followed by the self-torment of posting whenever the stars were appropriately aligned. And the creek wasn’t rising. Determined not to join the 95% of bloggers who abandon their projects within four months, I set out to find my lost blogging mojo. It snowed. I got busy. It snowed again. . . . .Read more . . .
Don’t tell my agent, but I would do this for free. That’s my favorite (paraphrased) sound bite from the Academy Awards broadcast. Busy with Sunday evening get-ready-for-the-week chores, I was only half-listening to the TV, so I’m not sure which Oscar winner said it, but it was someone who worked behind the scenes, not a movie star. Work I love so much, I would do it for free. “Yeah, Hollywood movie guy. You make big bucks and just won an Oscar. Easy for you to talk about loving your work enough to do it for free. What about us regular folks?” That’s why they call it work. I actually said that to someone who was complaining about going back to work after a great weekend. And I believed it. For a long time. These days I’m working toward being able to authentically echo that mystery Academy Award recipient. I figure. . . .Read more . . .
What happened to January? Or the beginning of February, for that matter. Can it possibly be only five weeks since I was brimming with all of those resolutions, er, intentions, for the New Year? Dotted with “2-hour delay” and “snow day,” my calendar doesn’t look like I accomplished much in the last five weeks, in spite of working through all of those snow days. Maybe the nice tech guy who helped me set up my web address was clairvoyant, since our conversation went like this: “OK, let’s review your order for SlowMotionCoaching.” “Wa-wa-wa-wait. What? How are you spelling that?” I felt the blood draining from my face. “S as in slacker . . . . L as in lazy . . . . “ (OK, so he didn’t say exactly that, but wouldn’t it have been pretty funny if he had?) “No, no, no,” I interrupted, “it’s F as in. . . .Read more . . .
The first snow day was a perfectly-timed delight. Two steps from heading out the door when the call came, I enjoyed a fun, productive day. Writing. Cleaning. Organizing fourteen bags of recycles, trash, and “donates.” Yoga. Reading. A little semi-mindless television. A lot of facebook. A couple of great phone calls. Rest. Day two: cabin fever, made worse by the fourteen bags cluttering my living room. The snow had stopped, the sun was shining, and the temperature was above freezing for the first time in over a week. I had to get outdoors and play. As I stepped outside, my neighbor was putting the finishing touches on a snow pyramid that filled his postage stamp of a front yard. I smiled, anticipating the squeals of delight I’d hear when his four-year-old daughter came out to play on it. I walked around my neighborhood and eventually to a nearby convenience store. . . .Read more . . .
How did you like Seth Godin‘s post on blindly following the commands of your GPS? Missed it? Check it out here. Really. Go read it now. I’ll wait. So? Which GPS could use a little disobedience from you? Maybe it’s the friend who wants you to take a spinning class with her even though yoga’s more your style. Or the boss who insists that you to be at her beck and call 24/7, even during vacation. Or maybe it’s the relatives who remind you how risky it is to pursue your dreams at your age/because you won’t be able to pay your bills and you’ll end up on the streets/in this economy. I’ve had my share of faulty GPS readings like those, but the shrillest ones are from the voice of my lizard brain. That’s the reptilian part that’s wired to read fear, danger, and lack at every turn. Lucky. . . .Read more . . .