romanlily

happy stories

2008-08-04T15:49:00.004-05:00

People, I'm here with a plea.

Give me some good news.

This can be good news about your kitten finally learning to tinkle in the litter box. This can be good news about the use of clean energy in the production of construction materials in the Midwest. This can be good news about how you've learned to talk to a difficult person with kindness. I'm up for anything.

Lately it's seems like it's been all bad news and sadness around here. I'm ready to hear some other voices. Leave a comment with some good news if you feel so inclined. Thanks.

my top 10 recommendations for life as a free agent

2008-07-28T14:28:00.007-05:00

"Free agent" is writer Daniel Pink's phrase for the 25 million Americans out there who are self-employed, temporary workers or independent contractors ("people who move from project to project and who work on their own, sometimes for months, sometimes for days"). I downloaded Pink's Free Agent Nation from Audible.com last week; I really like the way he thinks.

As I've been listening to Daniel Pink, a couple of friends have recently expressed interest in joining the ranks of the free agent. They're ready to leave the comfort and confines of the corporate world and go solo.

Listening to their reflections on their work lives, I started thinking about what I've learned since I began freelancing full-time. Sure, I still feel like an uneducated bumpkin when it comes to the finer points of self-employment, but I think I have learned a few things. So here is an unsolicited entry with advice for anyone leaving their 9-to-5 and going solo for the first time.

(1) Have a dedicated work space. This is big. It doesn't matter if you're an event planner, a writer, a quiltmaker, a code slinger, or a therapist. Set aside a physical space in which to practice your art. I believe that we're all more focused — and profitable — when we work in spaces that work with us. Also, having a dedicated physical space invites you to set up mental boundaries around the work. I know that when I'm sitting in that chair at my desk, it's time to work. And when I step away from the desk, the day's labors are done.

(2) Spend money on the important stuff. When you're just getting started, it's kind of tempting to outfit your space with completely new stuff. New computer! New filing cabinets! New trash cans! Most purchases are not that critical. For me, the most important physical acquisitions to make are: (1) a high quality, comfy, supportive desk chair; (2) a functional backup system; and (3) critical self-promotional items for your business. For many folks, this translates as a website and business cards.

(3) Give yourself a cash cushion. I've been freelancing for a few years now, and in that time, I've become intimately acquainted with the ebb and flow of my income throughout the year. The flow of money has actually become fairly predictable! But when you're getting started, nothing is predictable. Every little bump in the road feels like it might toss you right out of the wagon. The first year I went freelance, money came in pretty nicely for the first half of the year. Then it really dried up in the second half of the year. (In August of that year, my grand total in billings was $300. That was not a good month.) Your admission into the ranks of free agency will be much smoother if you start with a little cushion of savings for those slow months. Now I know to anticipate that the second half of the year is going to be slower than the first half. I make a point to say "yes" to my clients more frequently in the first half of the year, and I plan my vacations and personal projects for the second half of the year. As a matter of fact, I've already booked a spot at a retreat in December. It's also paid for already — so I don't have to worry about scraping together extra billings late in the year.

(4) Surround yourself with experts. I'll be honest — what I know about tax liability could easily fit on the inside of a matchbook. Dealing with the IRS puts me in my unhappy place very quickly. However, I have a smart, funny accountant who helps me make sense of the IRS. I pay her for her expertise, and it's worth every penny. Consider the value of a long-term relationship with an accountant, lawyer, web development genius, or other expert.

(5) Mine your longstanding relationships. One source of steady income for me has been past employers. In fact, one of my main clients today is the creative director I worked for in my very first job out of college. He's now growing his own small business, just like I am. As you get started, spread the word to past employers about what you're doing. If you have good relationships with past employers, and you still enjoy the work they produce, there's no reason you can't come alongside again. The implied subtext of this recommendation is, of course, "Never burn your bridges."

(6) Diversify your income. Don't be afraid of part-time jobs. They can be wonderful ways to invite some steady income and predictability into the mix. Having a little flow of regular money can also be very psychologically comforting. I used to be weirdly offended by the thought of part-time work — I felt like I was somehow failing if I didn't have a full load of client hours every week. Now I think that's just silly. A few lucky free agents will hang their shingle on Day 1 and immediately fill up their calendar with billable work, but I think of that as exceptional.

(7) Take breaks. One of the joys of working from home is finding little windows of time for yourself during the day. I love to step away from the computer and walk around with my camera in the middle of the day. I spend 20 minutes shooting this or that, and then get back to work. It clears my head and sets me up for a productive afternoon.

(8) Consider your tax status. Do you plan on being a free agent for more than just a couple of months? It might be more profitable for you to incorporate your business. The money you save in taxes is probably worth the trouble you'll go through to file articles of incorporation.

(9) Plan for vacation. Frankly, I work harder as a freelancer than I ever did as a salaried worker. If I deserved decent vacations when I was a cubicle warrior, I deserve them now. Plus, who wants to be that guy who doesn't know how to not work for a few days?

(10) Find a rabbi. Find someone who's a little further down the road than you are. Someone who talks about the challenges of business in a language that you can understand. (Personally, I love singer/songwriter/creativity consultant Christine Kane.) Buy their books, read their blogs, and reflect on what they have to say. It's OK to have multiple rabbis. I have a whole folder of bookmarks of writers who support the entrepreneurship and the free agency model in their thinking (Escape from Cubicle Nation is another favorite.)

If you have any recommendations or reflections about life as a free agent, I'd love to hear them.

uncollected thoughts

2008-06-08T19:59:00.004-05:00

Greetings from a muggy Sunday night in Atlanta. I just logged onto Blogger to see if I could remember my password, remember how to post. I feel like I've been in a creative drought lately. I'm ready to come out of it. Is that something one can do simply by intending it? Well, I'm here, and I'm trying.

I'm not here to write about anything in particular, just bits and pieces floating through my brain. Welcome to the blotter.

(1) I went to a funeral on Saturday for a young man I'd never met. Alex was the 22-year-old son of a woman I know through my contradance community. Alex's mother, Linda, is a petite Southern firecracker of a woman. Until Saturday, I don't think I had ever not seen her smiling. But the funeral was crushing. After a long struggle with addiction, Alex died of a drug overdose. I gather that his death was quite unexpected. He'd been in and out of recovery programs; I suppose he seemed to be making progress. And then he was gone. Linda sobbed and sobbed on Saturday. I didn't think I'd cry at the funeral, but I did, just because I hated to see Linda so sad. A mother should never have to bury a son.

(2) In a strange way, I feel oddly excited about the increase in the cost of gas. Yes, that sounds kind of sick. But being a good Socialist-hearted American, I find it interesting that we are finally starting to encounter some checks in our extravagant waste of fossil fuels. Wendell Berry wrote a splendid article in the May issue of Harper's that gets right to the issue, noting the psychological shifts that are accompanying the end of cheap oil:

…That human limitlessness is a fantasy means, obviously, that its life expectancy is limited. There is now a growing perception, and not just among a few experts, that we are entering a time of inescapable limits. We are not likely to be granted another world to plunder in compensation for our pillage of this one. Nor are we likely to believe much longer in our ability to outsmart, by means of science and technology, our economic stupidity. The hope that we can cure the ills of industrialism by the homeopathy of more technology seems at last to be losing status. We are, in short, coming under pressure to understand ourselves as limited creatures in a limited world.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like for American filling stations to sell gas at $10/gallon, like they already do in some parts of Europe. If we couldn't drive everywhere, would not our lives become significantly simpler, smaller and quieter? Yes, $10/gallon gas would necessitate some major life changes and some major inconveniences for most working Americans. But I think many of those shifts would be incredibly healthy for us in the long run.

(3) I've been working way too much lately. The financial freedom is nice. The disconnect I feel from my artistic life is not so great. I don't like who I become when I work too much. I become this machine, a hyper-productive, stressed, anxious, furious footsoldier. I continue to seek balance in this area. I miss taking photos a lot.

(4) I'm continuing to enjoy getting to know a couple of women neighbors in my apartment building. We went to Birdi's a couple of weeks ago and I had a "faketini" called the Christini Milkshake. $8.75 for vanilla vodka, white creme de cacao, Kahlua, and cream. I don't really care for elaborate drinks, but this thing was seriously delicious. I've been thinking about that drink for two weeks now. I'll try to steer the group back there and take photos next time.

(5) My older brother is spending the summer in Oregon and I miss him.

(6) I'm getting my hair cut on Tuesday and I can't wait. I haven't had it cut since March and I'm looking especially pitiful. I'm going back to the woman who did this to me — but this time we're going to have a Come To Jesus conversation before she picks up the scissors.

Thanks for reading this far. It's good to be back. Hopefully it won't be three months before I post here again.

Rivers and Tides

2008-04-01T08:45:00.002-05:00

[cross-posted on my Gaia site]

Last Christmas, my friend Kathy gave me a copy of the documentary Rivers and Tides, about the work of Scottish environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy. I'm a little embarrassed about how long it took me to get around to watching it. I'm so glad I finally did.

At first blush, this documentary is 90 minutes of footage of a man playing with sticks, snow and rocks. Beneath the surface, this is a very compelling and beautiful story of a man who has found his life's work making beautiful sculptures from the elements. His work is designed to be ephemeral -- he'll spend a day or two or three developing a piece of art, only to see it melt, thaw or be carried out with the tide.

His work offers a window into the transcendent in nature and illustrates the extreme fragility of the world around us.

Something about this documentary touched some pretty deep chords in me. After sitting down somewhat skeptically and watching the documentary with just one eye over the first ten or fifteen minutes, I got completely drawn in. There is so much that I admire about what this man is doing. I rewound certain parts and watched them again and again. I got out the second DVD and watched a bunch of the additional footage, the kind that certifies your standing as a bona fide fan. And I had to stop halfway into the video and get out my journal and write:

"Here's a guy who is basically doing pure art. He's working in deep connection to a landscape and he seems to be working for no particular audience. The elements are so pure. Water, sun, earth. He is doing it to achieve a greater understanding of the transience of life. It's not about scoring xyz gallery or spinning his grant application in the right way with the right phrases. It is about pleasure, learning and beauty."

Over the past couple of years I have noticed the increasing volume of drumbeats in my head. The drumbeats calling me to The Great Work. This Goldsworthy video was another wakeup call.

I'm not even sure what I mean by The Great Work, and I feel more than a bit foolish talking about it here. But the idea isn't going away, so it's probably time to try to poke at it some more.

What it's not:
This is not about spraypainting my name ("Class of '92!!!!") on the caves of Lascaux. This is not some Salieri-esque dream of immortality. I don't wish to be famous or rich. I don't care about making some mark on the artistic world that will never fade away.

What it is:
It's a desire to create something larger and more honest and more direct. It's a desire to bring more truth to the table. It's what Mike Scott was getting at when he wrote a song called "The Big Music" for The Waterboys 20 years ago:

I have heard the big music
And I'll never be the same
Something so pure
just called my name

Why fill your life with hundreds of your dumb snapshots when you can take three or four or just one really good photo. I think that we have the opportunity to speak more truth, we should.

(For me, "truth" is still a word that has a lot of sticky Christian tentacles attached to it. Certain Christian groups talk about the world's "truth" and about Jesus's "Truth," and about how the only enduring Truth is that found in Jesus Christ. I don't believe that anymore, and I'm trying to reclaim the concept from the church. Truth is turning out to be something much more beautiful and powerful and startling and life-giving than I was ever able to see before.)

In all of its breathlessness and recklessness, Annie Dillard's Living With Weasels grabbed me by the scruff of my neck about fifteen years ago and it still hasn't let go:

"We could, you know. We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience--even of silence--by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn't 'attack' anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

"I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles."

blogging elsewhere

2008-02-07T12:56:00.000-05:00

I'd like to invite you to join me at a new site where I've been blogging for the past couple of months: http://romanlily.gaia.com/blog

This site where I've been writing is formerly known as zaadz.com. It was just bought by the lifestyle/fitness/etc. company Gaia, but I still think of it as zaadz. They offer some nice blogging tools and writing prompts in the form of Questions of the Day. I like the feel of the community there. My biggest hesitation with closing down this site and embracing the zaadz site is that commenters are required to have a Gaia login in order to leave comments. That is a bit of a downer, because I know what it feels like to have create-a-profile burnout.

But I'm thinking about letting to of this site. I have felt a little unmotivated for a while about writing in this space. I like the sense of connectedness I get over at Gaia.

I'll decide later what to do with this site, but in the meantime, if you have any interest in reading some more recent entries from me, come on over!

it's time for music!

2007-12-20T18:22:00.000-05:00

It's that time you've all been waiting for — time for my favorite songs of the year. Yessss!

Yeah, there's a lot of other stuff I could write about in this space, but I am working hard to put the break-in behind me and move forward. To be honest, I am finding it upsetting to think any more about the break-in than I already have.

So I am here to share some delicious songs with you. I hope you enjoy.

(6) "Sanssouci" — Rufus Wainwright. Lord knows how I love this man. 2007 saw the release of Rufus' decadent Release the Stars, an dazzling album with the same lavish production that characterized his splendid Want One album and the cryptic Want Two. "Sanssouci" is probably my favorite song from the album, a playful little number about love and longing and boys in hotels. The song features a charming flute part, a sort of trilly, lacy little flute line that makes you feel like dancing around in a tutu. Over the summer I was rewarded with the sight of seeing a big muscular man wearing pin-striped circus pants playing that flute part at Rufus' Atlanta concert. That was a good day.

One of my favorite lines in the song is almost a throwaway, a casual line in which Rufus sings I'm tired of writing elegies to boredom. When this song came across my radar in the spring, that line felt like a strange revelation, a clue on the path. I took it as encouragement to broaden my horizons, to jump into something unexpected and scary. As silly as it sounds, I felt an implicit endorsement from Rufus when I quit my horrible soul-eating job at the Very Large Multinational Corporation a few months after discovering this song.

(5) "Flightless Bird, American Mouth" — Iron & Wine. I've been following Sam Beam since the days of The Creek Drank the Cradle, and I was happy to welcome this album to the fold this year. "Flightless Bird" is a beautiful, hymn-like waltz that closes The Shepherd's Dog. This song captures all that I love about Iron & Wine. The images of simple purity in Beam's music suggest a transcendent beauty that always waits just beyond our awareness.

(4) "The Part Where You Let Go" — Hem. I'm growing terribly predictable by adding a Hem selection to my top songs list each winter, but I can't help it. They're one of my favorite bands and one of the groups I turn to most frequently when seeking solace. They're like comfort food, except without all the guilt and calories. This song found me in June when I was leaving the stability of that soul-eating but lucrative day job and entering unknown territory. There were a number of occasions over the summer when the chorus reduced me to a quivering pile of tears.

(3) "Miracle of Five" — Eleni Mandell. NPR's delightful Song of the Day feature brought Eleni Mandell to my attention for the first time this spring. Her entire Miracle of Five album is full of sweet, folky songs like this one, with easygoing guitars and some sleepy saxophones. This is a very pleasing album.

(2) "Either Way" — Wilco.

Maybe the sun will shine today.

The clouds will blow away.

Maybe I won't feel so afraid.

I will try to understand

Either way.

The childlike simplicity of these lines that open Wilco's album Sky Blue Sky took my breath away when I first heard them. The clarity and courage in those lines becomes even more significant when you realize that the person who wrote them, Jeff Tweedy, suffers from major depressive disorder and panic attacks. The lines seem like the best kind of therapy, a promise to just accept each day with open hands. Perhaps it was the knowledge of Jeff Tweedy's ongoing struggles with depression that led me to somehow link these lines to my thoughts about Bob, my friend who killed himself in August. I think this song was borne from deep vulnerability, and that's what I like best about it.

(1) "Australia" — The Shins. I loved all of The Shins' Wincing the Night Away album, but this song especially. The joy and abandon of this song buoyed my spirits throughout the year. It's been years since I came across a song this singable. The entire first half of this Wincing album is about as close to genius as contemporary pop music gets.

Honorable mentions:

- "The Storm" — José Gonzalez (this was a Friday Night Lights soundtrack favorite — thanks to the producers of FNL for their fantastic taste in music)

- "What Is a Soul?" — M. Ward

- "Is There a Ghost" — Band of Horses. I bought Cease to Begin this month after seeing that the album made it into the top 10 of Paste magazine's Top Albums of 2007. The album feels like what would happen if The Ocean Blue and My Morning Jacket got together and had a big fight and then decided to be friends. Melodic, bouncy rock and some really lovely harmonies.

- "Goes Around" — Rockfour

- "The Story" — Brandi Carlisle. The way Brandi's voice cracks at the climax of this song never fails to give me shivers.

Well, that's my story. Let's hear what you've been listening to for the past twelve months.

amusing

2007-11-28T13:14:00.000-05:00

I took my car in to the mechanic today so he could look at some things. My check engine light was on, and it had been a while since I'd had the car serviced.

I love my mechanic. I've been seeing Rick for years. If he told me that he would need to charge me $5,000 to service my differential, I'd probably believe him and write him a check, even though I don't really know what a differential is or what it does.

This morning, when I dropped off the car, I asked him to look up the information on my car and tell me when I should plan to change the timing belt. The timing belt is a little rubber loop that is helps the valves in the engine fire at the proper times. The part itself isn't that expensive, but the timing belt generally lives in a terribly inaccessible place in the engine, so when you replace the timing belt, it ends up costing a ton of money, because the mechanic has to basically pull the entire engine out to get to it. I have to plan a few months out with the timing belt, because I can be confident that it's going to cost about $1,000 to change it.

Rick called me this morning. "Well, I've got some good news and some bad news." (This is how most of my conversations with Rick begin.)

I asked for the bad news. It was pretty bad: the car needs some obscure but important oxygen sensor unit. I have no idea what this part does, but the part costs about $600. Crap.

Then I asked for the good news.

"I looked up the information on your car to find out when they suggest you change your timing belt," he said. "I found out that your car does not have a timing belt. So you will never need to replace it."

"You're kidding!" I almost shouted into the phone. I was thrilled.

Then I stopped, and laughed, because I am pretty sure this means I've reached adulthood. The thought of not having to eventually pay for this car repair brings me to the same level of happiness that I have when Rufus Wainwright gives a concert, or when I get together for dinner with good friends.

Adulthood is amusing.

the gratitude list

2007-11-22T19:53:00.000-05:00

Back at home after enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with my family in the Atlanta suburbs. It was a wonderful meal, with both my brothers attending. This year we were also joined by my boyfriend, Rob, and my brother's girlfriend, Ana, who made a couple of scrumptious side dishes for our feast.

It was a really good day.

Things I have loved or appreciated recently:

- The way Ana's entire face lights up when she is talking about food she loves. She gestures with her hands, her eyes widen, and you feel your own pulse quicken at the thought of potentially tasting the food she's describing.
- The chance to enjoy very good food with Ana and Scott... they are discriminating food-lovers with terrific taste in food. Dining out with them really tops my list of yummy and fun things to do. (Last night I took them to Feast and they really enjoyed it.)
- The way my parents have made such an effort to welcome Rob and Ana into their lives. My parents have three children. Two of those children chose partners and married, and both of those marriages ended. Clearly, this was not part of what they wanted for us. But they are rolling with it and finding a way to enjoy "Plan B."
- Being able to make a living doing things that I really like.
- Being able to take photos every day of things that interest me.
- Actually knowing what to do with the photos once I have taken them (really enjoying getting to know Lightroom right now).
- A growing sense of spaciousness and permission to explore my creative dreams. That sounds really corny, doesn't it? But it's true. I am really grateful for the opportunity to develop my creative sensibilities.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

goodbye to a friend

2007-11-13T19:51:00.000-05:00

This morning I found out that Bob is gone. Bob is the friend I wrote about here. And that's a photo of him, taken by his wife Judy. His body was discovered, some time this past weekend, in the woods where he disappeared in August. It is apparent to authorities that he took his own life, probably on the same day that he disappeared.

In the three months since Bob vanished, I've discovered more information about some of the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. I found out about some major obstacles he was facing in some of his most important relationships. There were a lot of personal issues troubling Bob that I knew nothing about. But the thought of Bob killing himself is profoundly upsetting. I feel like I want to go back to the park where he disappeared, to sit down with him and just talk things out for a while. What I'd really like to do is talk him out of it.

I'm not really sad yet. Mostly I'm just mad. This feels like a profound loss of talent and heart for the world. Plus a damn fine dance partner for me.

It is so painful to know that some part of Bob really thought that ending his own life would be a good idea. Nothing could be further from the truth.

There was some small part of me that hoped that Bob was still alive. That he had just decided to go somewhere quiet to collect himself for a while.

A few weeks ago I even found myself hoping (irrationally) that Bob was alive, that he was Googling himself somewhere in a public library in the middle of nowhere, and coming across the journal entry I wrote about him back in August. Just so he would know that I was thinking about him, that I missed him. That sounds silly now.

Bob, I hope you are happier where you are now. I miss you.

the long apprenticeship

2007-11-04T19:15:00.002-05:00

Whew. I had no intention of letting this blog go for so long. I've been getting adjusted to my new work schedule, and feeling more overwhelmed than usual.

What's funny about my new schedule is that I work way more than I used to. And I get paid less. If I wasn't enjoying the work so much, I think this would be called irony.

Tonight daylight saving is on my side, and I have an extra hour, and I'd like to just say hello, because I've missed writing here.

Work with my photographer friend Mark has been going pretty well. I'm looking at my time with him as a long apprenticeship where I get paid only a little -- but I get to ask a lot of questions.

I'm learning a lot. And not all of it is technical stuff. A lot of it is good life stuff.

When I started working with Mark last month, I felt pretty sure that he was a photography god. (Well, sure. I do have a tendency to idolize my creative heroes.) I was convinced that he was one of the lucky ones who was just born with a boatload of natural talent.

Now I'm changing my view. I still think he's a damned good photographer. But now I think that his success is due only in a small part to what he was born with. More of his success comes from how hard he has worked to build his craft, how he slaves away at making his photos really sparkle. The purity and clarity that I see in his finished photos isn't there straight out of the camera. It's a process, a secret sauce. He begins with strong composition. Then he makes thoughtful choices about editing, cropping, color balancing. And then things start to shine.

My work with Mark requires me to look at a lot of photos. Sometimes I have to sort through a couple thousand shots a day, making quick judgments about what stays and what goes. I have two things to say about this. First, I love getting paid to look at photos all day. Second, the editorial process is teaching me some good stuff about what makes a photo work. I can't quite verbalize what I am learning, but when you look at a couple thousand photos a day, you start to develop a pretty strong sense of what makes a photo successful. So I am tucking away good information about what I'm seeing each day. I'd like to try to start incorporating some of the ideas I'm picking up from my time at the studio in my own photography.

In the afternoon, we stop working and go downstairs to eat something. And we talk about photography. At his core, Mark is a people-watcher. He is a big fan of the work of Gary Winogrand (you may enjoy Winogrand's World 's Fair, New York photo, or his spectacular 1969 image, Los Angeles, California).

We talk about Gary Winogrand a lot.

Gary Winogrand was a great photographer. Gary Winogrand also shot a ton of photos. According to this Wikipedia entry, he left behind more than 2, 500 undeveloped rolls of film when he died. That's a lot of film. He just shot all the time. If you shoot ten rolls of film a day and give the tiniest bit of attention to what you're doing, you're probably going to walk away with some very good shots over the course of your lifetime.

What I'd really like to do now is get over my fear of doing bad work. I have to remind myself that the only way to do something better is to do it badly for a while.

So much of my creative life the past couple of years has been about making a plan, hitting a wall, losing my way, falling apart for a while, and then starting over. This time around, I'm actually enjoying the process and yielding to the lessons as they come. This time I'm grateful to work my ass off for less money, grateful to learn, grateful to soak it all up like a sponge.

a few dark thoughts

2007-10-06T10:00:00.001-05:00

Saturday again. I'm writing this from work right now, my last day of work at the photo store. I've been wanting to write more lately, but the best I can summon at the moment is a handful of disjointed thoughts.

- My job in the photography studio is going well. Of course, things go really well when I don't screw up. Yesterday, during a long day of work, I tossed a few important papers into the trash. I wasn't thinking about it. I was done with the papers, and was trying to eliminate clutter. This morning my photographer boss called me (here at work, at my other job) to ask where the papers were. I didn't know right off, and gave him a couple of places to look. He couldn't find them. I cringed over the phone as I suggested they might be in the garbage can in the kitchen, where I had tossed a few things yesterday in a flurry of activity. Of course they were there. Dripping with tomato juice, plastered with potato peels. He was angry. I felt terrible.

(Maybe this is the kind of mistake that will be funny to look back on in a year or so.)

I wonder, will be possible for me to not feel terrible for the rest of the day about this error? I'm still learning how to make mistakes responsibly. How to take ownership of my errors without beating myself up. Self-flagellation is the pattern I'm used to. Learning how to thoughtfully accept the mistake and move on does not come easily.

- A client of mine emailed me last week to ask if I could take a photo of a watercolor painting he wants to incorporate into a brochure we're developing. He emailed me just after I realized that I must stop accepting new projects -- my work hours are completely absurd. I wrote back and explained that I was overcommitted and wouldn't have time for at least the next couple of weeks to take a photo of the art. I suggested that he find another solution. He replied by pushing back harder, suggesting that the photography project wouldn't take very long -- maybe he could bring it by one of my part-time jobs on my lunch break so I could just fire off a quick shot or two while he waited?

Alas, there is no faster way to enrage me than to disregard my shaky grasp on my boundaries. I have stomped all over my own life with muddy shoes these past few weeks, rearranging my days and nights in order to accommodate the needs of my clients. I find it very frustrating when I finally work up the courage to say "no" and receive only push-back.

I'm not going to shoot the photo. (It's become a principle thing.)

- My relationship with my parents has never been better. Last week my mom and dad sent me one of those silly song cards, the kind that play a really loud, corny song when you open it. The audio track on the card was Gloria Estefan's "Conga," and I almost jumped out of my skin when I opened it -- the song was so loud. Mom's handwritten message inside offered congratulations for all the developments in my photography life over the past few months, congratulations on the new job in the photography studio. Then it said something like, "Just remember, when you get famous, please don't take pictures of us when we're dead" (a reference to Annie Leibovitz's tendency to photograph loved ones on their deathbed). That's just quality photographic humor.

Lately I have found myself calling my mom first when something good happens. She is a wonderful cheerleader for her kids. I have never been so grateful for her support.

- Tomorrow is my first day off in a while. It feels like forever since I've been totally irresponsible for a day (it's really only been three weeks) I plan to celebrate by turning my phone off completely! And of course I may be sacking out on the couch and catching up on Season 1 DVDs of Friday Night Lights, to which I have become completely addicted. Go Panthers!

A perfect fall soup recipe

2007-09-23T19:22:00.000-05:00

In an unsuccessful but heartfelt attempt to simply force cool, autumnal weather to arrive in Atlanta, my boyfriend and I made this soup for dinner last night. It's got lots of nice fall flavors. The soup is pretty easy. The croutons are more complicated, but (I think) worth it. Now if only fall would get here...

White Bean and Rosemary Soup with Roasted Garlic Croutons

Croutons:
2 whole heads garlic
1/4 c + 2 tsp. olive oil
1 tsp. kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste
1/2 loaf unsliced whole wheat bread, cut into 1" cubes

Soup:
1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 Tbsp. olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 large onion, chopped (about 2 cups)
2 carrots, peeled and cut crosswise into 1/4" coins
2 stalks celery, cut into 1/4" slices
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
2 cans (14.5 oz each) white beans, drained, rinsed, and drained again
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh rosemary

1. Preheat oven to 400ºF. Slice off tops of garlic heads so the cloves are just exposed. Rub each head with 1 teaspoon olive oil; wrap loosely in foil. Roast 25 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven (but leave oven on); let garlic cool until comfortable to touch. Squeeze cloves from the heads into a small bowl; mash with a fork and set aside.
2. In a large bowl, combine half the roasted garlic with 1/4 cup olive oil, salt, and pepper. Add bread and toss until well coated. Place bread on a baking sheet and bake 20 minutes, turning once or twice, until golden brown. Remove from oven and set aside.
3. To make soup: In a large saucepan, heat butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium heat. Add onion, carrots and celery, and cook until tender, about 10 minutes. Add broth and remaining half of garlic and bring to a boil; reduce heat and cook 20 minutes, until carrots are very tender. Add drained beans and rosemary; cook 10 more minutes.
4. With an immersion blender or in a food processor fitted with a knife blade, puree half the soup until smooth. Stir to combine. Serve in bowls topped with croutons and drizzled with remaining olive oil.

Makes 4-6 servings.

Recipe developed by Rori Trovato for O magazine.

bokeh like butter

2007-09-12T12:58:00.000-05:00

This morning was the first meeting of my six-week "people photography" course that I am getting to take through my new job. I'm not getting paid to take this class or anything, but the course is free. Which rules.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the first class meeting. The director of the school where I am taking the course had asked me beforehand if I had a basic understanding of how my camera works. I'm not a technically strong photographer, but I have a general idea of how the camera works ("Just put it on P and press the shutter!"), so I said yes.

The instructor, Dave, invited each of us to introduce ourselves to the class. The class includes about a dozen people of all different skill levels. There were people who had just gotten a new digital camera and wanted to learn how to get satisfying photos of their kids. There were people who worked in photography professionally who wanted to learn some new compositional tricks.

The director fired up a slide show of some of his favorite portraits from celebrated and little-known photographers, and some students started asking questions. What was exciting is that I found myself nodding along to all of the answers he gave. I actually understood what he was saying, and I understood why he was giving those answers. I would have answered the questions the same way if I had been teaching the class.

Dave gave us our first photographic assignment, made a lens recommendation (the 50mm f1.8, for those of you playing along at home), and set us free to go take some great portraits. We report to next Wednesday's class with JPGs from this week's photographic assignment.

It was an encouraging class. It helped me see that I am slowly developing my skills and learning to trust my instincts about what works and what doesn't. Also, just being in the same room with a group of people who are excited about improving their craft is really energizing.

There's a lot of wonderful little stuff happening here, stuff that isn't earth-shattering but still lets me know that I am on a good path. I am waiting for some more of the details to unfold and then I hope to share some of those little stories here.

It looks like Wednesday is going to be one of my "weekend" days in this new schedule (Saturday is now a work day). The schedule is not as predictable as I would like, but it's doing work I really enjoy. So far, quitting the corporate game is proving to be a great decision.

bits and pieces

2007-08-28T13:46:00.000-05:00

The wonderful Doug Plummer has a great entry in his blog about the unchronicled, unsung skills needed to be a good photographer. As someone who is still trying to grasp many of the technical elements of photography, I found his perspective refreshing:

"...The technical minutia of photography is the easy part. It's just a skill set. The crucial element is your ability to connect with the diversity of subjects and clients and situations that a professional photographic life is going to throw at you. The crucial quality is curiosity."

I just love that thought. The whole entry is wonderful.

This has been an interesting week for work and photography. For the first time, I'm going to be working part-time in a situation that allows me lots of exposure (heh) to photographers and photography. The job is definitely small potatoes right now, but I'm still really optimistic about getting to learn more, meet new people, and increase my skill set. I feel like I'm at a plateau photographically right now — perhaps one of many plateaus I will reach during my creative life — and I am looking forward to reaching beyond it.

Photography-related links I've been enjoying lately:
- Kathleen Connally's "A Walk through Durham Township, Pennsylvania" photoblog
- Photographer Jeremy Cowart's portraits tagged "experimental"
- Bill Wadman's incredible 365 Portraits project. This guy is amazing. One new portrait shot and posted each day. Thanks to Paulie for the link.

Don't tell anybody, but it's 3:00 pm and I'm about to go sack out on the couch and watch a movie. I divided the morning between yoga and some freelance work. Tonight I'm getting together with a friend for some wine and conversation (her email was titled "we should drink more").

Life is pretty good.

prayers for a friend

2007-08-21T18:54:00.000-05:00

My friend Bob has been missing for three weeks. He disappeared some time on August 1 in Washington County, Kansas. Authorities are starting to conclude that he drowned while exploring a river on the campground where he was staying. Though his body has not been found, the situation is not looking hopeful.

Bob was one of the people that really encouraged me when I was getting started with my photography. When I told him last year I was thinking about upgrading to a newer, faster camera, he encouraged me to shell out the cash for a Canon 5D, which is a really powerful professional digital Canon camera. "The caliber of your work easily justifies this level of gear," he wrote me in an email. "If you want to hold up liquor stores to get the money, let me know. I'll drive the getaway car." I didn't end up getting the 5D, but the thought of robbing liquor stores at gunpoint with Bob made me laugh.

Bob had a 5D himself, and he also had the technical skills to stretch the camera to its full capacity. He was known around my community for his ability to capture dancers twirling and smiling, finding moments of pure joy and connection on the dance floor. I still don't know how he did this while keeping faces in focus and the shots properly exposed.

He was one of my favorite dance partners, too. That's how I first got to know him. He was an extraordinary partner, tall and strong. I knew if I was dancing with Bob that I could cut loose a little bit and he'd always be there to catch me on the other side.

Some of my favorite images from Bob:
Mentone fire dance
The bass player
Me dancing in 2005 with my friend Bruce

I hate the thought that I might never get to see Bob again.

what went right

2007-08-02T14:32:00.000-05:00

Some hints of cynicism have been coloring the edges of the days lately. It occurs to me that I am really scared about finding my next job. I long for work that is colorful and interesting and fun, but man. Three seasons of The Office have threatened my belief that such a job even exists.

This morning I went to another class at Dance 101. The class was led by Ofelia, who basically owns the studio and calls the shots. She led one of my introductory classes a few weeks ago and I wanted to try another one of her classes, because I really liked her style.

We started with a warm-up. Ofelia's graceful style turns even basic stretches into elegant displays of art. The way she moves is just so beautiful. As we danced through the class, I found myself feeling so grateful that this woman had found dance (or that dance had found her) and that she had decided to open this studio to students. She didn't even discover dance until her late 30s — then she dropped everything, sold the insurance business she had started in her 20s and put all of her energy into Dance 101.

When you see Ofelia dance, you sense that she is doing the exact work that she was made for. It's so beautiful to know that this kind of perfect fit does happen sometimes.

Today, in an effort to push back against the brittle taste of my own negativity, I am writing a list of What Went Right. There are always far more things that go right in a particular day than go wrong, right? I wish I was not so quick to brush aside the joys of the day and agonize over the "problems." So without further ado:

- Made it to dance class and back safely.
- I got some of the dance steps down correctly, and found those very enjoyable!
- Anticipating going out for a yummy dinner with two juicy girlfriends this evening
- Andy and his wife were nowhere near their Twin Cities home when that bridge collapsed in Minneapolis. They use that bridge all the time, but they happened to be on vacation yesterday when it fell apart.
- The old discarded leather chair I spotted a few days ago down the street was still available to be photographed this morning... photos possibly forthcoming on Flickr.
- I did not have to work today with S.J., C.D., K.B., or J.B. (a host of former work people at the VLMC who were pretty much impossible to deal with).
- I found the absolute perfect card at the store down the street to give to a certain friend this weekend. I don't know why that's so satisfying, but it really is.
- No one else was using the washing machine so I put my clothes right in and now they smell terrific.
- A very kind librarian was able to find the misplaced copy of the Cormac McCarthy book while I waited so I could check it out.
- I got to spend the whole day on the couch reading said Cormac McCarthy book (an extremely rewarding way to spend a day).

Remind me to make lists like this more often.

practicing happiness

2007-07-17T19:32:00.000-05:00

Some twelve years ago, when I was a tender, mumbly sophomore in college, I applied for a small scholarship from a philanthropic foundation specializing in journalistic education. In order to get the scholarship, I had to be interviewed over the phone by some hard-nosed news editor who evaluated all the scholarship candidates. I've forgotten just about every detail of that uncomfortable little exchange, but I do remember the editor closing the interview by asking me some ridiculously lofty question, something like, "What do you think the most important thing for humans to do with themselves in this day and age?"

I was extraordinarily nervous about this whole interview, and not at all prepared for a question of that magnitude, but I remember scraping together my faltering self-assurance and saying something incredibly somber like, "I think it's important for humans to really be serious and do a good job in everything they do." That was basically my answer.

Years later, I'm recalling that conversation and wondering how it was that I got to be so serious. Endless productivity is a massive bore.

Maybe what I'm starting to feel this week is a weird byproduct of being a distant heir of that pack of overzealous, hardworking Puritans that came over on the Mayflower a few generations ago. I don't know. But as of this week, being on vacation is starting to get hard.

When you go on an open-ended sabbatical with no job waiting for you at the end, the rat brain comes out to play. No matter how much the rational part of my brain knows that I am completely fine, the rat brain does not care. The past few days, I have begun to feel some weird tremors of worry, panic, and scarcity. Real rat brain stuff, stuff I haven't felt in a while. In an idle moment, I will start thinking about how I need to find work. Or I'll get agitated, or chide myself to do something "productive."

This afternoon, I took a long walk, and I realized that my job right now is to practice happiness. To simply rest, enjoy my time off, and to be content. There is absolutely no need to flail around and wonder anxiously where I'm going to get a job. There's much more to life than being endlessly serious and productive. I want to fully enter this state of uncertainty, and to do so knowing that I am sustained and safe.

The poem I just posted in Ephemera speaks beautifully to this issue. I think I need to print that poem out and tape it to my forehead so I don't forget.

things to try

2007-07-09T10:24:00.000-05:00

One week into unemployment. Last week I joined my boyfriend for a trip to see his family in Virginia. It was such a pleasure to take that trip, smack dab in the middle of the week, to spend long afternoons strolling the beautiful countryside where his family lives instead of sitting through another painfully boring meeting in which a dozen topics of no interest or use were discussed ad nauseam.

Nope. I'm not missing my old job too much these days.

I know these unoccupied, unscheduled days won't last forever, so I'm trying to make good use of the time while I've got it. I've started a list titled "Things to Try" and I'm having a lot of fun adding new items to it. It's not a list of "Things to DO," mind you. At this point a long list of things I had to do would feel restrictive and slavish. No, this list contains "suggested activities." This list is a polite garçon standing at my elbow saying, "Perhaps the lady would like to email Jane now about having lunch together next week?"

It is just so satisfying to make lists. But with this list, I don't need to feel any guilt if I don't cross off one of the elements of the list. It is a list about possibilities.

Here are a few items on the list:

Paint a wall?
Photostroll to middle Georgia
Go visit Sheila and Atticus
Register for some Dance 101 classes
Clean out coat closet
Have a Flickr pin show?
Dinner party for building?

I have been staying busy with the list, and already crossed several items off the list. That feels good. (My first Dance 101 class is tonight!)

samba, sun, and feng shui

2007-06-30T13:21:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here in the kitchen with Stan Getz playing and the A/C going strong. I'm putting together a dish for tonight's movie potluck at Jean's house — we're going to watch Venus. Tomorrow I'm headed to Virginia with my boyfriend for a visit with his family. The trip is kind of last minute, and a happy reflection on the fact that I no longer need to sacrifice half of my accrued vacation hours for a spontaneous little road trip.

Yesterday was my last day of work at the Very Large Multinational Corporation, and I'm very glad to have that chapter behind me. Four of us on my team were leaving our jobs on the same day, the results of the restructuring process. We all went out to lunch, told some funny work stories, and turned in our badges to HR. I don't think any of us wrung our hands or shed any tears yesterday.

The photo above depicts my desk at the VLMC. My office was in a dark little cave, a room with bad ventilation and not much natural light. I'm glad to leave that space behind and to spend more time in my tiny little apartment, which I have always loved.

I've been unemployed for 24 hours! No regrets so far.

Okay, there is one final mystery lingering in my mind about the VLMC, and then I'll stop talking about it, I swear:

My co-worker Wendy had been with the Corporation for 8 years. She started her career as a Level 2 associate, then worked up to Level 3 Manager, and then, in February, was promoted to Level 4 Director. Wendy was terrific in this role, and was getting lots of kudos from her supervisors. She was a great employee because she knew how to play the game and speak the language of the Corporation convincingly. At the same time, she remained a real person, and not some sort of corporate robot who spoke only in acronyms. She enjoyed her work and brought real credibility to her role.

Anyhow, as she was going through the restructuring process with the rest of us, Wendy was told that she was going to be demoted from Level 4 back to Level 3. Then she was told that the VLMC was going to hire a new Level 4 Director, and that Wendy would be reporting to that person in the future.

Why would this happen? This news just stunned me. I must emphasize that Wendy was the perfect fit for her role at Level 4. She was incredibly smart, accomplished, and energetic. Does this just mean that someone at Level 5 had it in for her?

At any rate, the issue is moot. Wendy told the VLMC to go jump in a lake (I am paraphrasing a bit). She was one of the four employees who left the Corporation yesterday. When I heard that she was resigning, I went to her and threw my arms around her in a terribly unprofessional bear hug, because it was so nice to know that the bad guys were not going to get her. As of yesterday, Wendy had already interviewed a couple of times with a terrific company and was well on her way to a better job.

It feels funny to be in this place right now. At the kitchen table, with a Stan Getz samba coming through the speakers, fresh laundry tumbling in the dryer down the hall. I'm an unemployed, divorced 33-year-old woman with a big swirl of ideas in my head, a handful of half-baked ambitions and no real clout in the job market. Yet I couldn't be happier with my choices and where I am.

I have already started looking for other work — I don't intend to just be a hippie for the next ten years. But I feel enormously satisfied with the places my decisions have taken me. I plan to take the next few weeks off to soak in that feeling, swim around in it for a while. I ordered a copy of the book Sacred Space. Feng shui is kind of corny and passé these days, I suppose, but I still love the concept. When the book arrives I'm going to do some space-clearing rituals here at home, reset the energy for the next passage of life.

These small moments seem to be my happiest ones. Singing, loafing, cooking, cleaning up, sweeping, reading, shooting photos. None of them are mountaintop moments. But those are the moments when I experience a profound peace with who I am and who I am becoming.

Sayonara to the Money Factory

2007-06-14T19:26:00.000-05:00

Well, it looks like my tenure at the Money Factory (also known as the Very Large Multinational Corporation or "VLMC") will be drawing to a tortured close at the end of the month. I've had eighteen months of blissful stability, plenty of money, amazing health benefits, meaningless work projects, an endlessly agitated bullshit sensor, and the knowledge that the gig wouldn't, shouldn't and couldn't last.

The decision to leave became much clearer and easier for me last week when the VLMC let go one of my good work friends in part of a massive re-organization. Before Andy was let go, I didn't fully realize that he was sort of a lifeline to me in the office. Without him around, work quickly shifted from tolerable to fairly unbearable.

The silver lining in this situation is that I am timing my exit during the same re-org that swept Andy out the door. Most of the people left behind in my department are getting "re-matched" to a new position, but since I'm choosing not to accept the new position, I'll get a nice severance package that will help keep me going through the summer. It will also help me pay off the new Canon D20 and the fantastic new lens I just bought. (I can't figure out if the timing of that major new camera purchase is amazingly terrible, or eerily good. I'm choosing to believe the latter. Now I'll have time to enjoy using the darned thing.)

After my last day of work, I'll burn some work materials in Lalah's fire pit. I plan to make a little ritual out of it. Seems like an appropriate use for those 250 business cards I never distributed. I hope to never see my name printed next to that company's logo again.

I am really not sure what comes after this, but I feel very positive about closing the books on this chapter. The lesson I learned at the VLMC is that it's not enough to just make good money and benefits. There must be something more. Some little seed that opens up new possibilities. Some opportunity for growth, or even some interesting relationship with a co-worker that provides a beam of light in the middle of the day. I'll probably never have an Amazingly Meaningful Job, the kind of job where I save babies from burning buildings or distribute protease inhibitors to AIDS-infected Africans, but I need to do more with myself than clock in every day to a job that leaves me half asleep. I suddenly find myself reminded of the words of Jesus, when he talked about how worthless it was to gain the whole world and lose your own soul. As far as I know, Jesus never worked a day in an office, but clearly he understood how crappy it feels when part of you goes dead inside, and how much better off you are when you fight back against that death. And this thought is oddly comforting.

Goal-setting

2007-05-25T10:09:00.000-05:00

Somehow over the past few years, I've fallen out of the habit of regular goal-setting. Other friends have merrily plotted magnificent courses for themselves, saving money, paying off debts, improving their fitness and cleaning up their unfinished business. And I've just been sitting here on the couch eating tortilla chips and thanking God that I'm not one of those crazy goal-setting maniacs who's always pushing herself to improve. Because, you know, self-improvement is hard work. It's kind of a drag sometimes.

I mean, who needs goals? I've got serenity, and a bag of tortilla chips, and a remote control. Sweeeet.

So I've been drifting along, aimlessly bumping into jobs, friends, activities that happened to float my way. Did yesterday mark my 100,000th tortilla chip on the couch? Maybe it did, because I suddenly realized that I'm getting really tired of being so utterly rudderless.

At work we've been going through an excruciating cycle of "self-development and coaching." This cycle apparently comes up once a year, and sweet mother Mary, it is torture. You have to request written feedback from others who judge how well they think you're doing in the area of Change Agility™ or Communicating Impactfully™ or Building Meaningful Relationships.™ It feels awful, asking a co-worker to wax eloquent about how skillful I am at Change Agility. I would rather ask them to personally throw away my used dental floss.

I thought I was done with all of this, but then yesterday my Superboss came in and provided some On-the-Spot Coaching™ about this one final bit of development I need to take care of. It is a massive Self-Evaluation Form™ where I have to write a long, reflective essay about how I've done with my own work objectives over the past year. I have to write entire paragraphs about my skills in Sharing Knowledge Openly™ and Communicating Impactfully™.

"I usually spend four or five hours putting mine together," Superboss said. "It's good to spend some time on it, because it ends up getting put into in your permanent file."

I nodded thoughtfully and made a good Listening Attentively™ face, absorbing all the details about this massive crap-fest I cannot seem to extricate myself from. As soon as she left, I took out my journal and wrote an angry screed which contained so many swear words that I am too embarrassed to quote it here. The bottom line is that I am getting back into personal goal-setting, and the first goal to permanently eject myself from this company in the next year so that I never have to go through one of these ridiculous self-assessment cycles again. Change Agility that, Superboss.

Yes, I know I'm pretty much repeating myself a lot here lately. But this is where I go to process reality and concoct new plans. So bear with me.

(Deep breath.)

Yesterday I ran across this quote from Theodore Roosevelt. I keep reading it again and again:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man [or woman] who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs; who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

First, I wish this guy was still president.

Second, I love that final phrase: "those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." I know that when he wrote this, Roosevelt was probably talking about courageous soldiers who went into battle to give their lives for the cause of freedom, but from where I'm standing, I feel like that phrase is a good characterization of my attitude towards work over the past few years. All the upper-management shakeups at the office over the past few weeks have helped me clarify with unshakable certainty that sitting on the couch eating tortilla chips is not enough anymore.

mental health day

2007-05-17T10:40:00.000-05:00

Today I called in sick to work. I'm not feeling unwell at all — quite the contrary. Just needing a break. I had told my boss yesterday that I might be coming down with a little something, you know, needing a sick day. He gave a little smile and said, "You know, sometimes people do get sore throats, and they really need to stay home." It was such a simple little thing he said, but there was so much gentleness and permission in it. I took him up on it by staying home today.

The past couple of weeks have involved a lot of tumultuous concerns about work. Yes, it looks like my job at the Very Large Multinational Corporation will be going away in the next six months or so (maybe the next six weeks — who knows?). The Very Large Multinational Corporation leaders have lots of colorful words for exactly what's happening. My department is not being downsized; it's being redesigned. Our work is not being off-shored; it's being centralized. The upshot is that about 20 people on our 80-member staff of artists across the country will be laid off, and the rest of us will probably be asked later in the year to "centralize" ourselves down to "central Florida." Or, to accept severance packages.

Getting fired has never sounded so lovely.

After feeling terribly conflicted about my job for months, this seems like perhaps some sort of divine push to get the hell out of the company and doing something else. I don't know precisely what that "something else" is yet. But I hope and believe that it will be a good thing.

So I'm asking myself lots of questions lately about what might be next. At the same time, I'm still worried about money and very unclear on whether I can go to grad school now, or if I should just shelve that idea for a while.

Last night I got together for a lovely dinner with Jean and Lalah, two of my favorite, most connected, most lively and authentic friends. Lalah was late but when she showed up she had three dozen roses in her arms, a dozen for each of us. We all looked like prom queens as we were seated at our booth. At one point during dinner, they asked me what was going on with my job. I'd been sharing the rumblings about potential layoffs for a while, and they wanted an update. I took a deep breath and said, "I don't know what is going on with my job, but I do know that I have too many skills and ideas to stay cooped up in this stupid job that has absolutely nothing to do with my values or personality!" And Lalah lifted her glass and said, "All right!" and then we drank to that, and I started to think that even if I don't know what else is around the corner, things are going to be OK.

the lynch mob sounded like a good idea

2007-05-06T14:33:00.000-05:00

I've been cleaning like a madwoman this afternoon, right down to the strips of rubber on the refrigerator door that help seal the cool air in. A mild solution of white vinegar and water is what I like to use for this chore. I suppose the acidic content of the vinegar helps eat mold and destroy microscopic creatures that would otherwise build their condominiums right next to the fresh egg compartment.
Yesterday afternoon I got a phone call from an old friend. She was rounding up me and four of my oldest, most beloved friends from our college years, calling an emergency meeting for that night on behalf of X., who had something she needed to tell us.
When an emergency meeting like this is called, it's rarely for celebratory reasons. We met at the restaurant, all of us feeling a little concerned, and settled into the biggest booth we could find. X. steadied her nerves with a glass of wine and told us that she had been living in a physically abusive relationship with her husband for ten years. She was initiating a separation from him. He finally went too far this week, his rage reaching a level that left her fearing for her life.
I went cold and shuddery at the news. I could only shake my head. We all listened as she told us what she had been through for the past ten years. How it started with a little shove against the wall years ago from this man, who is two heads taller and eighty pounds heavier than she. And then things just got worse and worse.
We all cried, and told her how much we supported her, and offered sympathy and help with lodging and practical necessities. We remembered times when things had seemed not quite right between the two of them. We said mean things about her husband. We expressed wishes for him to experience pain, a lot of it, and slowly. I had to hold my tongue during that part — I wanted to go into graphic detail about exactly what I wanted for this man, but I also knew that that wouldn't help.
Truthfully, I kept thinking about how great it would be to go down to Ye Olde Viking Superstore, and get some big torches, the kind as big around as the trunk of a sapling, the kind that actually drop little pieces of flaming cinder on your shoulders as you hold them aloft. And then I was thinking about how maybe all of us could go down there, march down the street with our torches blazing and cinders flying everywhere, and beat on the door of his house and demand that he come out.
Of course, I do think of myself as a peaceful hippie, a middle child, a peacemaker, someone who has actively sought to incorporate the qualities of Nonviolent Communication into my relationships. To suddenly relish thoughts of leading a lynch mob was unnerving, and I quickly tried to bleach the thought from my mind. Calling a lynch mob together would not improve the situation in any way.
Plus, I might get put in jail.
As we continued talking, I realized that X.'s husband is exactly where he needs to be. He has stopped denying everything, and is beginning to recognize the depth of his problem. And his wife is already doing OK. After years of knowing that things have not been right, she is getting her life back. She is going to be fine. She is going to be very, very fine.
The women that were called to the restaurant that evening have been in my life for a decade or two. Though the reason for the gathering was very painful, I couldn't help but rejoice over the fact that we were all together in that booth, all thinking the same thoughts, wanting the same things, a tribe who would gladly walk through fire to help our friend. These women found ways to support, care for, question, and bear with me during some of the darkest days of my life, and they were doing it again for X.
I thought about the strength of that tribe of beautiful, strong women, and I knew that we didn't need a lynch mob. We were unleashing hell on X.'s husband simply by being completely present for her, for bearing witness to her story and reminding her that she would never feel that kind of aloneness again.

art and fear

2007-04-29T19:24:00.000-05:00

Several years have passed since I visited the Inman Park Arts Festival. It's one of Atlanta's big spring arts festivals, and it's one of our better ones. Sculptors, woodturners, painters, jewelry makers, metalworkers, knitters, and, yes, photographers had art on display today when I visited.

At festivals like this, I always examine the photographers' goods most carefully. It inevitably becomes a little contest. I size up their photos. I mercilessly compare the quality of their work to mine. I create an imaginary graph with x and y axes and see who scores the strongest. (It's really kind of ridiculous.)

Today I saw some mediocre work there, and some really beautiful work. I saw some stuff that I really enjoyed. I even splurged on a wonderful black-and-white print from a north Georgia artist who shoots beautiful nudes.

It was only when I got home from the festival that I started to reflect on the uselessness of my little comparison game. Setting up a contest like that is basically an exercise in envy. It yields mostly resentment.

It occurs to me that these anxious feelings are an almost constant companion for my photography right now, to one degree or another.

It's a good indication that I need to re-program some of my thinking.

Julia Cameron might as well have been there with me today as I mercilessly eyed the artists' wares:

"Jealousy is always a mask for fear: fear that we aren't able to get what we want; frustration that somebody else seems to be getting what is rightfully ours even if we are too frightened to reach for it. At its root, jealousy is a stingy emotion. It doesn't allow for the abundance and multiplicity of the universe. Jealousy tells us that there is room for only one — one poet, one painter, one whatever you dream of being..."

As you might guess, carrying around an attitude like this tends to drain a lot of the fun out of art. It flavors the artistic process with bitterness — rather than the natural sweetness of playing, enjoying, noticing, exploring.

I've felt for a while now that I'm at a threshold with my photography. I think today's experience at the Festival was just another reminder that I need to keep pushing to get into grad school. It's not even a particular degree I'm after — it's the structure of the curriculum, and the opportunity to learn new things while gaining a clearer sense of what my own work is about.

I want to pursue school mostly because I'm not doing myself any favors by staying in this small and petty place with my art. Sure, I want to take better photographs. I also want to get myself to a more open place, and stroll through the Festival with a desire to celebrate every piece of art I run across.

Ten really good things about this week

2007-04-20T12:15:00.000-05:00

(10) Getting my taxes paid (see also: simply having enough money to pay my taxes).
(9) Fage yogurt with honey drizzled on top.
(8) No cavities at the dentist on Thursday.
(7) Working from home on Monday. (Folding fresh laundry and listening to Spoon while writing emails. Working from home is like being on vacation.)
(6) This funny Will Farrell video.
(5) Canceling my subscription to Harper's magazine. I know they're a highbrow current events/arts magazine, and I'm pretty sure I deliberately attempted to score some intellectual snob points in the past by leaving a couple of issues casually strewn on the coffee table when friends dropped by. But god, it's so damned bleak. Every time I finished reading an article I just felt sad and bruised. Attention Harper's: I know there's a lot of bad stuff happening in the universe. You do not need to remind me each month. If that makes me a Pollyanna, fine.
(4) Getting back into boot camp. The new session I signed up for is at 6 pm, and that's working out well. This week, it's been great working outside in the park, with beautiful breezes keeping everyone cool. Running around at the park when it's spectacular outside is really fun.
(3) Buying airfare to the beach in June for a long weekend with Kathy and a group of other powerful women. The emails flying around about the trip bear the subject line "Badass Beauties on the Beach." I must say, I don't mind being identified with that group.
(2) Making a conscious decision to approach my work with a more positive attitude. Sure, the concept is in vogue, and it's fairly Oprah-ish. But it's something I need in my work. Maybe positivity is something you learn rather than something you're born with. I could use the practice. I would rather be a positive person than a walking Harper's magazine.
(1) Running into Baton Bob on the street yesterday (see photo). A 6'3" black man wearing a tutu, sparkly majorette boots, twirling a baton. Seeing this guy out there on the street doing his thing just makes me smile. After I took that photo of him, I gave him a very big tip. Please keep doing what you're doing, Baton Bob.