French Christmas

#Reverb10 prompt 28: Defining Moment

Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.

We humans, we like our routines. We like the way they feel to us, we like being able to sink down into them like you might sink into an old barcalounger. We like being able to put things on autopilot and cruise through the pre-determined course of our week. But every now and then, something happens that will throw you off track, that will cause a minor fender-bender in your subconscious, that will make you sit up and take notice.

December 30, 2010 was a Wednesday, which meant I went to my Wednesday night Bikram yoga class like I do every other Wednesday. Except this time as I lay on my mat waiting for class to start, it felt different. Something nagged at the hem of my yoga pants like an anxious child. That something was déjà vu.

I had been in the same place, on the same mat, on the same floor one year earlier. I had been there physically just as I was now, my back stretched out against the wood beams, my skin warming to the heat of the room, my muscles stretching and releasing. Except my mind had been a million light years away; it had been tracing over and over and over the events of the day to come. A day—New Year’s Eve Day—when I would walk out of my office for the final time. A day when I would say goodbye to co-workers I had known for almost five years. A day when I would leave behind security and stability for something … more.

When I think of December 31, 2009, I think of doorways. I think of waiting at the threshold, of my hand on the knob. I think of that in-between place that hovers between an ending and a beginning. I think of the breath you take just before you leave one space behind in search of another.

December 30, 2009, was the day that I was preparing myself to take this step, preparing my mind and body for the motions they would have to go through to make this change complete. On December 30, 2010, I had already walked through the doorway and come out the other side.

My Aunt Fran sent me this card just in time for January 1, 2010. I kept it taped to the front of my day planner all year long to remind me of my defining moment.

#Reverb10: Prompt 11 + Prompt 13 = 26 ( + Prompt 28)

Uggg … that looks rather like some kind of quadratic equation, doesn’t it? (*shudder* *double shudder*)

Rest assured, I would not normally be playing with numbers like this – clearly I prefer to play with words – but in this case, an equation is necessary. An equation finding the intersection of #reverb10 prompt 11, prompt 13, and prompt 28, and what that intersection means for me in 2011. Here they are in their entirety:

Prompt 11: 11 Things
What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?

Prompt 13: Action
When it comes to aspirations, its not about ideas. It's about making ideas happen. What's your next step?

Prompt 28: Achieve
What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.

When I started #reverb10 and was trying to catch up, prompts 11 and 13 seemed like two peas in a pod to me, a great way to formulate a real action plan for 2011. This would be more than just a New Year’s resolution, it would be a list of goals and aspirations that were concrete and tangible and achievable, not a vague promise made on a drunken night. Not an abstract call to “cut calories” or “exercise more” that would lose steam and peter out and eventually die by February 5.

Of course coming up with an action plan takes time. (And why not? I look at my resolutions as the ultimate gift to myself, a gift for the future, so I wanted to devote some serious brain time to it.) While I was thinking busy noodling over my plans for 2011, prompt 28 came along and joined the party and seemed to be another perfect piece of the puzzle.

So here it is: my 11 things transformed into things I want to achieve, action items that will hopefully help me take this blog and my writing to the next level in the New Year.

(And no I am not double dipping. Well, maybe a little.)

11. Go Daddy
Nope, this resolution is not some kinky thing like you might think. This is the year I am actually going to get it together and by real domain names from Go Daddy (or wherever, your recommendations are appreciated) for my blog. No more of this name – dot – typepad – dot – com business. I want something short and sweet that I could put on a resume or a business card and not have a line break appear in the middle.

10. Blog Evolution
Dear blog, how I love you, let me count the ways. You are so near and dear to me, and yet you need some sprucing. Some upgrading. Some better navigation. Some colors and branding. I’m hoping with the help of @solaana, designer extraordinaire, we can make this happen.

9. The Birth of noelrozny.com
In 2011, I’d like to see this blog become part of a bigger site, something like this (@laurenkgray's kick-ass website). ‘Nuff said.
 
8. Get Twitterpated
This year my personal profile finally got a real photo and bio – I consider this to be a huge victory. In 2011, I need to keep building my personal Twitter profile by following, tweeting, and finding some writing/blogging chats to join. (You guys got any good ones? Put ‘em in the comments below!)

7. Host a Virtual Cocktail Party
I would love to have some guest posts on my blog this year, and possibly *hopefully* guest post … somewhere. I dig the #reverb10 community. I’m hoping through guest posting I can keep that dialogue going.

6. Take Initiative
Like I said above, #reverb10 was huge. I’ve always been sort of a lone wolf when it comes to creative (and even career) projects, but meeting a community of other writers has been so helpful. Reading other people’s words just inspires me to work on my own, and the feedback is so priceless. So in 2011, I’ll be looking for similar online initiatives to play in (again, if anyone has their ear to the ground, let me know).

5. Feed the Beast
This writing thing, as much as I love it, is not always the most lucrative. I need to feed the beast, that beast named “BANK ACOUNT,” in 2011. I have some leads on freelancing gigs that could help make the difference between Ramen and actual spaghetti; it’s time to follow up on them. To echo point #9, ‘nuff said. 

4. Submit, Submit, Submit
I love all things web and social media (Twitter, you and I were clearly made for each other) – I really do. But there is something so sublime about getting an article or piece published, and then holding that piece of paper with your name on it in your hands. I need to tackle that list of magazines I dream of seeing my name in, and submit to them until my fingers bleed. (Not literally, because I can’t afford a new computer.)

3. READ MORE BOOKS
Holy moley, have I gotten lazy and accustomed to reading things online. I fear this constant blog-reading, as much as I love it, has given me the attention span of a mosquito. I need to dive into those blog cousins, those longer mediations on life and human existence and sometimes a good murder mystery, preferably on a snowy day with a blanket and cup of tea. That sounds infinitely better than being hunched over at a desk, doesn’t it? (Besides, staring at the computer screen all day is making me feel cross-eyed. Am I the only one?)

PS: This resolution/action item was inspired by Laura Gesin’s amazing post.

2. Do it Ever Day
#Reverb10 has been a great exercise, like practicing the scales every day. In 2011 I need to write every day: whether it’s an awesome, comprehensive blog post or a confessional journal entry or a silly prompt just for myself.

1. Storytell
This is the big one, my albatross, the granddaddy of them all. I need to write fiction, and not just dip my toes in, but plunge headfirst and hope the water isn’t too cold. I’ve been avoiding it. 2011 is the time.

#Reverb10: Nines and Tens

Prompt (Originally for 12/9): Party
What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

I used to consider myself quite the wild thing: tequila shots on the top of the speaker at the dance club in Mykonos at 4:00 in the morning. The whole bit. I have a whole closet full of sparkly clothes and a photo album full of indiscreet photos to prove it.

But in 2010 my favorite party was small—just me, my boyfriend, and one of our all-time favorite couples. Red wine. Phil’s puttanesca. Board games. Sweat pants.

My old party self used to be a firecracker, a sparkler, the lit fuse at the end of a bomb. I like to think I still have fire, but it’s more of the crackling, flickering bonfire variety. The kind people want to gather around and warm up to and drink a cup of hot chocolate in front of. And I think I’m ok with that.

Prompt for 12/10 (That’s right! I’m Caught up! Woot!): Wisdom
What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

I wouldn’t say it was a wise decision to quit my job on December 31, 2009. Especially because the storm that’s become know as the Great Recession was still in full gale. Especially because my job had a lot of perks, like stability and a free cafeteria and dental insurance. Especially because I wasn’t sure what my new career path had in store for me.

(I may have mentioned all of this earlier. And I’ll probably mention it again, since that was pretty much the theme of 2010. So consider yourself forewarned.)

What I was sure of was the song my heart was singing, the steady 808 demanding I march to the beat of a different drummer. I had tried to ignore it for a long time, but the sound, the bass, had become deafening. It was either follow it or go crazy from trying to ignore the tune.

Now I get paid to write. I have time to work on my own writing, like the amazing #reverb10 project. The rest of the stuff—co-pays, rent, milk money—somehow miraculously works itself out every month. In 2010, I learned that being wise is listening to your heart, not your checkbook

Footnote: Looking back I feel especially pleased with my decision, because it turns out I wasn’t the only one who jumped ship in search of a dream in 2010. One of the byproducts of the recession seems to be that people got pissed: pissed at the rat race, at working 70 hour weeks and never seeing the sun or their children, at making lots of money but not having time to spend it. (And then watching that money disappear from their 401k when the boys on Wall Street decided to play it fast and loose). Now there’s this thing called the Slow Job Movement. It’s a revolution in how people work and play, and I’m happy to say that I was a part of it in 2010.

#Reverb10: Sevens and Eights

Prompt (Originally for 12/7): Community
Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?

In 2009 I had my feet firmly entrenched in print. Glossy bi-monthly magazines. Marketing brochures with perfect binding and full-bleed photos. Letter-pressed event invitations wrapped in vellum. How to take words and make them live and breathe in the real world, make them into something you could touch and hold in your hands, is what I did.

With the career change I mentioned earlier, I left the tangible world of print for the ephemeral world of social media. Instead of headlines, I now write tweets. Instead of reviewing color proofs, I review Bitly analytics. Instead of marking up draft copy, I mark up Hoot Suite schedules.

In this brave new world, there was no rulebook or “how to guide.” I found my way, learned to navigate the paths and twisting trails, through the help of some amazing guides and sherpas. Without them—this amazing online community of people—I truly would have been lost in the woods. Their enthusiasm, support, and passion for their respective missions renews my love for what I do each and every day.

There are far too many to list here, but I would like to take a second to recognize some amazing women who really helped me find my way. Follow them on Twitter @bbenishek, @bizmebizgal and @womensally.  To meet the rest of this amazing community, join #careerchat on Tuesdays or #HFchat on Friday.

Prompt (Originally for 12/8): Beautifully different.
Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different - you'll find they're what make you beautiful.

I’m going to just admit it: I don’t feel comfortable writing about what about me lights people up. I mean, I think I know what those things might be, but I don’t quite know how to put them into words that I would feel good about. Why do I feel like it’s a taboo for some reason?

There. I said it. And having said it, I am going to try anyways …
I was a junior in college on September 11, 2001. There was a vigil in the center of campus that evening, and everyone held candles. It started with one person: they lit their candle, and then touched the wick to someone else’s, and so the light was passed on, around and around and around the circle, until the whole square was aglow.

When I think about what it means to be human, I think of this moment. About how in the darkest of moments, you have to dig down and find the light in yourself and pass it on to someone else. So it starts with you – knowing how to find your own internal spark, whatever it may be, and pass it on to someone else.

When I think about what makes me light up, it’s being able to connect with someone through a smile or a laugh, a soft touch on the shoulder or a great big hug. One of my college roommates told me once, “For such a little person, you give the biggest hugs!” So there you have it: I don’t know if it makes me different, but I know it’s what makes me happy. And if I’m right, I think it’s what makes others happy too.

#Reverb10: Fives and Sixes

Slow …w…w…ly getting caught up and on schedule with the daily #reverb10 prompts … woo hoo for small victories!

Prompt #5: (Originally for 12/5): Let Go
What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

Into the river of 2010, I placed a little boat proudly bearing the word STRESS on its bow and watched it float away.

I had a lot of stress in 2009. The kind of stress Americans are proud of, the kind they wear like a badge of honor. The kind of stress that walks up to you and says “Hey! Hey YOU! I have a big busy job and a big busy life. See how important I am?”

I bought into that once. Especially when I first got out of college. I, like so many others, relished in describing how stressed and busy I was. I took it as a sign that I was contributing to the world and doing what I was supposed to be doing. That’s what being an adult is, right?

Then stress became it sort of like those pants you bought for your very first job. They seemed so cool and grown up at the time, but now your hips have gotten a little wider and they’re not as loose as they used to be. And when you sit down in them for too long the waistband pokes you in the stomach and you can taste your lunch all over again. And then you realized that the fabric is a little chinzy and the pattern was really never quite right for you anyways.

That’s why I put them (it, it being stress) in the basket for Salvation Army.

Promt #6: (Originally for 12/6): Make.
What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

Monday nights are usually for me. No phone, no email, no company, just 90 minutes of hot sweaty yoga and then several hours of trashy reality TV (the kind that makes my boyfriend’s toes curl when he’s around).

On Monday nights I make seven-layer taco dip. It is to me what spinach is to PopEye. It has sustained me through many lean years and even reaches all the way back to my childhood, when my Aunt Kathy would make it for family parties. I know each of the layers by heart, exactly how much sour cream (the non-fat version these days), tomatoes, avocado and cheese to use, how to place them so they actually layer and not turn into a conglomeration of mush. (That’s the key, you see, how you layer each ingredient will affect what you taste when you pop that dip-stacked chip in your mouth.)

I made this last night for myself. I did it in the quiet, no tv or radio or Christmas music, just me and the meditative chop chop chopping of the tomatoes. We make and do things all day every day for other people – last night it was nice to make something just for me.

#Reverb10: Fives and Sixes

Slow …w…w…ly getting caught up and on schedule with the daily #reverb10 prompts … woo hoo for small victories!

Prompt #5: (Originally for 12/5): Let Go
What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

Into the river of 2010, I placed a little boat proudly bearing the word STRESS on its bow and watched it float away.

I had a lot of stress in 2009. The kind of stress Americans are proud of, the kind they wear like a badge of honor. The kind of stress that walks up to you and say “Hey! Hey YOU! I’m have a big busy job and a big busy life. See how important I am?”

I bought into that once. Especially when I first got out of college. I, like so many others, relished in describing how stressed and busy I was. I took it as a sign that I was contributing to the world and doing what I was supposed to be doing. That’s what being an adult is, right?

Then stress became it sort of like those pants you bought for your very first job. They seemed so cool and grown up at the time, but now your hips have gotten a little wider and they’re not as loose as they used to be. And when you sit down in them for too long the waistband pokes you in the stomach and you can taste your lunch all over again. And then you realized that the fabric is a little chinzy and the pattern was really never quite right for you anyways.

That’s why I put them (it, it being stress) in the basket for Salvation Army.

Promt #6: (Originally for 12/6): Make.
What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

Monday nights are usually for me. No phone, no email, no company, just 90 minutes of hot sweaty yoga and then several hours of trashy reality TV (the kind that makes my boyfriend’s toes curl when he’s around).

On Monday nights I make seven-layer taco dip. It is to me what spinach is to PopEye. It has sustained me through many lean years and even reaches all the way back to my childhood, when my Aunt Kathy would make it for family parties. I know each of the layers by heart, exactly how much sour cream (the non-fat version these days), tomatoes, avocado and cheese to use, how to place them so they actually layer and not turn into a conglomeration of mush. (That’s the key, you see, how you layer each ingredient will affect what you taste when you pop that dip-stacked chip in your mouth.)

I made this last night for myself. I did it in the quiet, no tv or radio or Christmas music, just me and the meditative chop chop chopping of the tomatoes. We make and do things all day every day for other people – last night it was nice to make something just for me.

#Reverb10: Threes and Fours

 

Prompt #3 (Originally for 12/3): Moment
Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

When I read that prompt, I thought of this:

“I feel really awake. I don't recall ever feeling this awake. You know? Everything looks different now.” -- Gina Davis, Thelma and Louise

And then this:

Touch: When you’ve been swimming in the lake for a long time, and your muscles are tired and aching a bit, but in that good way, and you swim all the way out to the raft, and you climb up the ladder and the summer breeze is a little cool on your wet skin at the same time the sun feels so good and hot.

Smell: There is the sharp smell of the water first, almost metallic, like a very clean and sharp piece of steel. Then from underneath the beads of water forming on your skin, the round and warm smell of coconuts from your suntan lotion seep out, and they mix with the low and smoky scents of barbecue that wander over from the shoreline to check out scene.

Hear: The sound is organized into primary and secondarys. The primary sound is the
tugging of the water on the sides of the raft. It isn’t loud or overbearing, just a constant,
gentle reminder that you are being held up, pushed forward by something much bigger
than you are. The secondary sounds come in fits and starts, almost as if you were dunking
your head periodically under the water, the sounds of volleyball games and radios and
babies and motorboats droning somewhere in the distance.

Taste: The familiar taste of fresh water, organic and earthy, the taste of back flips and cannonballs and summer camp mid-afternoon dunkings.

See: Two almost unbroken blues of the water and the sky, the trees and the beach and the mountains in the distance dividing them from one another.

Feel: The Halfway Point. July 4, 2010. Not defeated or diminished yet. Miraculously not broke or living in a cardboard box or in a van down by the river. Instead, sitting with your boyfriend on a raft in the middle of the bluest, clearest water outside of the Caribbean, surrounded by mountains and some of the best people in the world.

Prompt #4 (Originally for 12/4): Wonder
How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

I cultivated wonder this year because basically I woke up every morning in 2010 and wondered what they hell was going to happen. In a good sort of way. It was good because I made it that way.

At the end of 2009, I decided to quit my job. My very cushy, great benefits, suit every day, big desk kind of job. In exchange, I became an almost-full time writer with an after-hours waitressing gig served up on the side. (Just because if that whole writing thing didn’t really work out, I still needed some way to buy those Ramen noodles.) It became my personal career revolution.

I left my old job, a job I had been at for almost 5 years, on December 31, 2009. I woke up on January 1, 2010 for the first time in five years not knowing what was going to happen.
That’s the thing about being in a job for too long; you can predict every day, every hour of your day, every minute of your day. Every little thing you’ll do, every annoying phone call you’ll get and every insignificant detail you’ll give yourself a heart attack over. All the wonder goes out the window.

On New Year’s Day, my world was full of wonder. Also, anxiety. But that’s all right, nothing’s perfect. I’ll take wonder with a little sprinkle of anxiety over mind-numbing boredom any day.

Something New

See that awesome new button just above these words? That's my something new. I read about it on Lauren K. Gray's website, this chance to sit back and reflect on the year before it slips away and gets buried under a pile of snowflakes, Christmas cookies, and jingle bells. You can read more about it here, but basically it's a chance to think about 2010, and what it meant to you, and what you want to create next. I like that aspect of this project--that's is reflection and action in one clean swipe. So often we get caught looking back that we forget to crank our necks around and see what's next.

Plus, it's a chance to write every day. And to be perfectly honest, I could use the practice. I need some time to play in the sandbox and see what messes or castles I can create. As a warning to you, dear reader, this might be a rather self-indulgent enterprise -- a lot about me and what I think and what I feel about my experiences of 2010. But during this crazy time of year, I'm internally thrilled to give this gift to myself. I hope you'll use it as a chance to soak in and munch on the last great bites of 2010 for yourself as well!

 

 

Today is a Day For Dreams

Have you ever had one of those moments when you say to yourself, “Holy crap! The symbolism of this moment is so thick you could spread it on a cracker and eat it with some liverwurst! Someone call Steven Spielberg, this #$@ should be in a movie!”

This morning in the deep bowels of the Blue Line, I had one of those moments. Lately I’ve been looking up at the mountain of goals I’ve created for myself and been generally lazy about leaving base camp. (Ever notice how that happens, how you stockpile goals and ideas until all of a sudden you’ve got your own personal Mt. Everest looming above you?) I’ve know for awhile that I’ve needed to get my ass in gear again, and apparently the Universe decided to skip the gentle reminders and clock me right over the head with a 2 X 4.

Said 2 X 4 came in the form of a mouse. A tiny little brown field mouse, who really had no business being down in the el tunnels where his much larger rat brothers and sisters usually hunt. (I imagine in some scenarios, this little guy would be their lunch.) The balls on this mouse must have been huge, because there he was, right in the middle of rush hour, dodging trains and trying to drag a half-eaten piece of pizza four times his size from one end of the tracks to the other. The trains would rumble by and he’d drop the pizza and scamper for cover, run out, grab it again, pull it forward a few more inches with just his teeth, drop it, start over again … until finally he made it all the way to the other side.

So today is a day for dreams. What’s yours?

Dreams are born in French fires

Working on the Medium Raw essay entry got me thinking about dreams. Or maybe not just dreams, but where they start and the vehicles that deliver them. These are just as important as the dreams themselves.

The word “dream” and the associated imagery, at least for me, tends to be celestial. In mid-afternoon wonderings, I imagine my dreams being born in starlit places, soft shades of purple and blue, quiet seaside porches or solitary yoga workshops.

But where dreams are really born is amongst the grit and the grim, the elbow grease, the dirty places. A sweaty gym locker room. The walk-in freezer of a late night diner. The empty alleys between swing shifts. That’s why writing about food and chefs and dinner service got me thinking about dreams. Because restaurants, if you’ve never worked in one and don’t know, are the unique incubators of dreams.

For half of my life now, the restaurant world has been the stage mother, the offensive coach, the midwife of my dreams. Dreams big and small, tangible dreams and intangible dreams. Dreams of my first car, my prom dress, my college tuition payment, money for spring break. I thought once I graduated college, I was on my way and didn’t need these delivery systems anymore. But like anything traveling from one place to another, dreams need a conduit, a highway, an intermediary to bring them from one world to the next.

That’s where the restaurant comes in. They are uniquely designed to provide the fuel dreams require: flexible hours, bendable work schedules, and steady stream of fast cash. That’s why this year I found myself once again serving Cokes and taking orders, working and sweating in the service of a dream.

I’m not the only one in on the secret. In server stations or up at the host stand, waiters and waitresses whisper and plot and sketch out their dreams out like constellations they’ll hang in the sky. The pensive looking guy dropping off medium-rare filets at table 10? He will use your tips to buy canvasses, paintbrushes, and Ramen noodles. The hippie girl with the huge dreadlocks? She’s saving up her cash for an around-the-world odyssey. That feisty little bartender serving your drinks? She moonlights during her MBA program, where she prepares to become the CEO of a fortune 500 company.

In the back of the house, in the places you don’t see, there are dreams being born there too. The guys on the line, many of them are in culinary school. They are living their dream right at that exact moment, while they arrange your pre-dinner salad and after-dinner panna cotta, even as they dream of bigger things, of what’s next. For the chefs who have come from very far away, all the way from Guatemala and Mexico and Ghana, the restaurant delivers a whole different set of hopes for the lives they want to live. They are living their dreams too.

On a busy Friday or Saturday night, or sometimes even on a slow Tuesday morning, you can hear that low buzz, like the energy that hangs in the air just before a thunderstorm. It’s the sound of people being busy, the sound of people who are on their way somewhere else.

(And this is why when you go out to dinner you should always always always leave 20 percent.)