Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
So if you don’t mind, I’m going to have to keep this short while I try to staunch the (mild) bleeding. (It’s not that bad, really. It’s just kind of yucky.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
There's this person I sort of know who I'm pretty sure has been placed on this earth as an example of how I never want to behave.
Because s/he's so cool. How cool? The coolest. And s/he wants to make sure that you realize it. And make note of it. You'll never be as cool as her/him.
This bugs me.
Not because I think I'm cool -- I'm not cool. I've never been cool. I'm awkward, and not the adorable Zooey Deschanel kind. Just the awkward kind. It doesn't bother me, as a rule, because I've had thirty six years to deal with my social clunkiness and feeling like everyone else got the "this is how to act/dress/speak/whatever" memo and I didn't.
Except that, with the vantage point of those thirty six years, I also know this: there isn't a memo.
We're all just sort of scraping by with our own uncoolness. Some of us have an extra sprinkling of it. Some of us just have a little bit. It might be well hidden, but it's usually there, under the surface, worried over and waiting to be found.
I'd rather be completely accepting of myself and my dorkiness, my flawed and sometimes rather obnoxious self, my discomfort with some social situations, than be someone who walks about practically yelling "LOOK AT ME I'M COOL."
Because that's kind of NOT cool. It's kind of sad. And even though I know that, on some level, it comes from a deeper, more insecure place, it still bothers me. Because I want to give this person a hug and tell her/him that we're all just kind of big idiots, hanging around and hoping no one really notices how lame we are.
I don't think it would be appreciated, though.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
1: wanting to hunker down in my pjs.
2: looking in the mirror and thinking, "whatever, no one cares."
3: suddenly realizing that broth is delicious. Soooo yummy. So comforting. So ... Easy to digest.
4: falling asleep on the couch during lunch.
5: being full-on jealous of my cat's ability to sleep all day, whenever and wherever.
6: thinking that the bathroom floor would be a great place for a nap.
7: thinking that the office desk would be a great place for a nap.
8: dreaming about taking a nap while, in fact, napping.
9: losing your train of thought while writing a list and finding yourself unable to finish said list.
Anyway. I'm off to drink some more broth. Try not to be jealous.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Which got me thinking.
I mean, at this point, I’m on my third career path (well, fourth, if you count retail, which you probably should because I can sell a sweater or fold a pair of jeans like a flipping CHAMP) and I sort of stumbled into it. And by sort of I mean “Someone called me out of the blue and offered me a job with this company and I didn’t have anything better to do since I had decided to move to North Carolina so I took it with the idea that if I didn’t like it I’d totally quit and do something else, because I’m flakey like that.”
That was five years ago.
I’m still here. Only now I run the joint from the comfort of my home. Whee!
So why DO I do what I do? (That sentence makes me giggle because it sounds like scatting.)
(and also, what DO I do? You might be asking.)
For the record, my company does inspections for banks and insurance companies. What I personally do is oversee the whole kit and kaboodle. The subcontractors, the office staff, the clients, the company owners, you name a piece of the pie and I have my finger in it.
I often think of the whole mess like this: It’s an orchestra. I conduct it. Which means that sometimes I have to have heated, serious conversations with individual members or sections, and sometimes I just need to watch and listen while they do their thing. It also means that I know that I’m also watched, that people take their cues from me, and so I have to be on top of where we’re going and what happens next.
Why do I do it?
I never meant to fetch up here, to be honest, so the “Why do you do it” question is an interesting one for me. I was a planner – as in, you form a life plan and you follow it and there you are and that’s that – but I discovered that defining yourself by a plan can be an intensely bad idea, because some plans will just kind of explode on you and then you’re left with no plan and so sense of who you are anymore.
Which kind of sucks.
Jen, however, is awesome, and a serious question requires a serious answer, so here it is: I do what I do because, in this role, I feel like I’m allowed and encouraged to be the best version of myself. I keep learning and growing and finding new things to study and understand. (And I get to be a little bossy. And I get to work from home. And they PAY me for it! Can you even believe it?)
Ten years ago, if you’d asked me what I would be doing, I wouldn’t have said this.
But I love it. Even when it’s making me crazy, I love it. Even when I’m tired or stressed or cranky. It’s hard work and it’s demanding and every day there’s a problem to solve and, for some reason, that mostly makes me really happy. (And even when it doesn’t, I know that eventually? It will again.)
My name is Danielle. I run operations for a company based out of Utah. And I do it because I love it.
Why do you do what you do?
Monday, March 12, 2012
When you're a kid, you don't know that bullies are ignorant.
You don't know that a bully sees someone who is amazing, different and free and feels like they need to build a cage of hurtful words and actions around you so that you are trapped, diminished, and small.
You don't know that they deserve no power over you, that they are weak and you are marvelous and strong.
You only know that they are hurting you. And the longer the bullying goes on, the more painful and frightening daily existence becomes. The more isolated and despairing you become -- unless, that is, you have somewhere to turn.
I support the Trevor project. It saves lives.
Maybe you want to support it too.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
I try to use my powers for good. BECAUSE I CARE.
* A dizzy izze is made as follows (and these are estimates. Do I look like I measure? Because I don't)
2 parts izze raspberry beverage
1 part chocolate vodka
1 part pineapple juice
Some pineapple chunks (you could freeze them first, and then they're like pineapple ice cubes.
Put in martini glass. Tastes like a banana split. SO DELICIOUS. So there you are.