danapop

Recently, my mind has been lost in thoughts of the next decade. I think it’s mostly because I’ve now been in Atlanta for ten years. It’s made me sort of want to reevaluate things on a life level, including the city I call my home. When I moved out here in 2000, I held a lot of titles-college graduate, daughter to a mother and father, single, scared, video journalist (a.k.a. the most entry-level position you can have at CNN), and Midwesterner (just to name a few).

I’ve still got that degree, my father died within 9 months of me moving here, I met my husband at CNN, my title changed from V.J. to producer by the time I was 26, and now, I no longer consider myself from the Midwest since the South is the longest I’ve ever lived in one spot. So here I am, examining the past decade and all my titles. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I care about those sorts of things, just as most of us do.

We all have them. But, what do they mean exactly? Are they simply just boxes people want to put us in or the frames around our life that fit other people’s mold of what they want us to be, or what we might call ourselves? Sometimes these titles actually fit with who we want to be, but often that’s not the case.

Going after what I want is never the issue with me. My husband describes my approach (lovingly, I think, err hope) as a bull in a china-shop. I’m not particularly proud of that. If there’s something within sight, I generally go after it and beat it into submission (although pretty sure said husband was not acquired that way).

Right now, I have career opportunities open to me. But, I’ve realized I make decisions quickly, not really giving the care and attention to if they are right or wrong decisions, just so that decision is made. Because of that, I don’t operate with the boundaries of just letting things play out, then a few years later I might think to myself, “hmm I could’ve let that rest a bit.”

I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be this decade or even just this year. Mother? Published author? Freelance writer? Communications Director? Editor? Or, answer D … all of the above? There are many people in my life struggling to come to terms with their own titles-estranged, unemployed, single, separated, mother, infertile, brave-it’s beyond career stuff.

What titles do you want to keep this year? Which ones would you throw out the window?

I read somewhere that most people tend to stick to their goals better if they can visualize them. My mind is apparently wired the same as the majority, because if I see it, it’s generally easier for me to achieve it. In lieu of the standard resolutions for this coming decade, here’s my vision. My creative board of what I’d like to happen and what inspires me to make it a reality. Universe, are you listening? Bueller?… Bueller?… So, what’s on your vision board?

All photos courtesy "Mudbug"

I didn’t write this week’s post. An old friend tracked down through the power of social networking did. He has graciously written an extraordinary piece for danapop in what I think captures the true essence of the holiday season.

Happy holidays all.

dp

When I was a kid, I used to watch the holiday messages made by troops stationed overseas.  I aspired to be like those soldiers on television.  I envied those who were off in some far away country, doing interesting things.  I wanted to give a big smile, a wave and tell everyone best wishes from somewhere nobody had ever heard of.  Of course, when I was growing up, we were not at war.

I recently had the opportunity to make just such a video.   You could record a holiday message in an area set aside in the morale tent.  I sat down on the stool, looked at the camera, started to say something, but nothing came out.  I looked at film tech and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”  I then grabbed my helmet and walked off to a meeting to talk about the latest insurgent tactics.

I am not sure why I couldn’t say anything.  Maybe because it was September and it was 110 degrees.  Maybe because Christmas was the last thing I was thinking about.  Maybe because I didn’t want to make a video wishing everyone back home a Merry Christmas, when there was the possibility that I might be dead before the video even aired back home.  And when I tried to say Merry Christmas in September, it just sort of…died on my lips.

Time back home is marked by holidays and the passage of seasons.  The hands on the clock and the days on the calendar have meaning.  Around September, when the air first starts to get a chill, we pull our sweaters out of the closet and can’t help, but think that soon it will be Christmas.

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How I wonder what you are.

As a child, I was obsessed with outer space. If I had to guess now, it was more likely the idea of a vast universe with all sorts of matter floating around. It intrigued me and filled my mind with curiosity for years, the existential questions of what is really out there, the unknown. Because I’m so familiar with these thoughts in my own mind, I often wonder why is it so scary, the unknown? I’ve always wrestled with it. Now, the full disclosure–after thinking our life was going one way, it’s clearly not.

This was supposed to be our baby year. This was supposed to be my writing year. This was the husband gets a promotion at work year so I could have both the writing and us working on trying for a baby. Then, the economy tanked, just after I’d started up my business.

Then, my husband’s company kept eliminating positions until finally, while I was in California (which you’ll read all about next week) visiting my sister, my husband calmly (err, sort of calmly) told me he’d been laid off. The news was delivered in a tone I recognized from five years prior when I was post-appendectomy with my husband tearing through the Piedmont Hospital hallway screaming, “My wife is throwing up!” and me sitting in the mechanical bed covered in vomit wearing my coke bottle glasses, crying, “I don’t know why you love me!” We really know how to hold it together, the both of us.

It didn’t come as a huge surprise. We’d been waiting for this day for a while, as the writing has been on the wall for ages now. But, if you ignore it enough, it goes away, right? Let me tell you, waiting for the shoe to drop doesn’t make it any less scary. Or easier. So, there’s quite a bit of unknowns at the moment. More than I can begin to wrap my head around.

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Leavenworth, Kansas circa 1800’s-Courtesy of the Command General Staff College of Ft. Leavenworth

When we visited Vancouver earlier this summer there was a chatty store owner talking to my mom, sister and I while we were shopping. She couldn’t fully comprehend how my sister could live in Maryland (she’s since moved to California), my mom in Kansas, and me in Georgia. None of it made sense to her. She kept asking why we didn’t live near each other–we all sort of struggled with an answer, but the easiest one was because of work. Which is true, but only partly.

There is something to be said about small towns. A quaint Main Street with boutiques, a past rich in history, where everyone knows your story. Leavenworth, Kansas, for me, is that place. Although we moved around quite a bit growing up, Leavenworth is (and likely will always be) home. It’s where my parents chose to set roots–where I attended school off of a military post for the first time, where I graduated high school, where friends I have known the longest live, and where my mother still is (with my brother and his family not too far either).

One of the oldest themes in everything from movies to music is the idea of leaving home. You know, putting the past town behind and starting fresh, in a new city. I did that. I left home almost a decade ago at 23 and haven’t returned much besides holiday visits and the occasional baby shower, hometown wedding, or milestone birthday celebration. I left my small town in Kansas in my rear view mirror for a job, which I’ve since also put in the rear view.

And while I look at my Leavenworth with fondness, I do feel a teeter-totter emotion of extreme complacency when I visit. When I go home I see the small town sadness and a desperation that is just not present in my life in Atlanta. Once I arrived here, I quickly came to the realization that I was a very small fish in a very large pond, especially compared to where I came from. I was nervous, scared shitless, excited and totally unprepared for the whirlwind of a life I would have here, those first few years.

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The last thing in the world I wanted to have happen when I started this site was for it to stress me out.  Make no mistake; I think some level of stress and challenge in life is a good thing. In theory though, this was to be the arena for me to look the most forward to. And right now, if I’m being totally honest, it isn’t. Because this, alongside my other writing gigs, has gotten to be more than I can pull off, for now.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s partly because of this venue that I’ve managed to build up such solid work and for that, I’m very grateful. The full disclosure is this–at the beginning of the summer I went under contract to write a book–ghostwrite, and it, as you can imagine, is quite time consuming (and fantastic). I’ve juggled it thus far, but currently feel I’m not doing anyone any favors (other clients, dog, husband, family, and dirty dishes in the sink included) keeping this pace and this crazed look in my eye.

I always said that when I had my own company I would never want the work to suffer, any part of it. So, I’m slowing down. I’m trying a new format here with once-a-week-postings to publish on Tuesdays. I’d rather publish less often, but let the standard still be there than to go on pretending I’m not checking it off my mental list of articles to write in a week.

Like most changes in life, it’s bittersweet–on one hand I’m hoping it’s temporary, on the other, thrilled at the reality of being so busy at something I created. Until then, continue to enjoy reading, just at a less frantic pace.

Here’s to filling the cup, but not letting it run over.

It’s always around this time of year when the Holiday hub-bub is just about over that I get the urge to travel. Specifically, taking a trip that involves a beach. For now, I must only write about it than actually experiencing it myself. So, here’s a wishful thought for surfing in the new year…

For me, surfing, much like life, is mostly about balance. That thin line of being steady, in control and powerful, dueling in sharp contrast with wiping out in one quick misstep. I recently discovered an amazing product that combines the notion of surfing with the design aesthetic of custom artwork – London L Surf.

I was fortunate enough to chat with Brittany Tripp, designer of London L Surf, a custom surfboard company out of Costa Mesa, California.

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When I write, I tend to be more focused and inspired when I light a candle. So, it’s not uncommon for me to have one burning most of the day. The balance of scent is tricky…I never want something too strong in its note (too floral or fruity or one that makes me want to devour a plate of sugar cookies or an entire apple pie). So, finding that perfect line of candles is complex with a ton of fragrance induced headaches and mysterious food cravings.  I found my solution years ago though, when a friend gifted me a Paddywax candle.

From first match strike, I knew, this was the candle company for me. Hand poured, eco friendly, family owned and operated…I had to get an interview with its founders. So I did. David Duncan and I sat down for a chat about the company he founded with his wife Gretchen, Paddywax.

Also, a timely sidenote – Paddywax candles are on my wish list for stocking stuffers…and should be on yours too.

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