Lookout 2014, Here I Come

I hate making changes at the beginning of a year. The changes never seem to stick. The challenge starts at the beginning of the year, but interest is lost when a goal is reached or it takes too long to reach a goal.

2013 is a testament to that. My employer implemented a challenge to get us all up and moving every day. The challenge came with a reward: walk 10,000 steps a day, every day for a month and a half, and earn Black Friday off. We all started out well. We took walking lunches once or twice a week, ate at Sonic less and less, and were more conscious of moving. I saw a huge difference in myself, and started seeing a difference in my pants. 

The challenge lasted for a month and a half. And, I'm quite happy to report, collectively, we did make it. But, as the weather turned, we walked as a group less. Some stopped walking all together. Others who were more motivated walked and moved more, earning 50k and 70k steps or step equivalents.

Me? I pulled through and marched in place with my two year old and got my 10k a day more often than not. Some days more.

The end of the challenge was the same for me as everyone else: we all dropped off the moving bandwagon. We stayed in our seats more. Walking lunches stopped (though, this probably had as much to do with Boise's weather as it did with no longer having that challenge). We all shoved our noses back in to our work and forgot about walking. Myself included.

A challenge is great. It motivates and pushes, but, when the challenge is over, the motivation goes away. And the pants start fitting again.

In the true spirit of pushing and challenging myself, I've already started making good on the things I'd like to change in 2014. My first term in Graduate school yielded amazing results: straight As. And I hope to repeat that feat this next term. I'm pushing myself to grow and to change, and not playing it safe.

Most importantly, I'm not letting fear get in my way anymore.

Fear has ruled my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up horseback riding on the hunter-jumper circuit in Southern California, I was scared to death to jump. I wanted to do dressage. My trainers had other plans for me. They got me jumping. First over tiny little things, then, the jumps got bigger. I still think there's little more exhilarating than riding an extended trot across a diagonal line. The collection through the corner to create the explosive power across the largest portion of the arena to only be collected and bottled back up in the next corner is truly the most freeing experience I've had. But, it's also controlled. It's safe. Horse and rider are communicating the entire time, and the horse is able to leave decisions up to the rider (not that the horse will always follow those decisions).

Jumping is an entirely different experience. For the entire time the horse and rider are in the air, the rider only has control over her own body. Leading up to the jump, the rider has to relinquish a certain amount of control to the horse; yes, the rider may get to choose the spot, lengthen or shorten the horse's stride to help select the best take-off point, but, it's a small level of control. My trainer used to say, "once you round that corner, the line is done. Look through the jumps and to the next corner."

When I could push my fear of the large 4' jumps with spreads just as wide and follow her advice, it was easy. I'd come round the corner, two half-halts inside the turn to collect and stead the horse, see the spot, adjust the stride, and count. Three, two, one, jump one. One, two, three, four, jump two. Land, one stride, half-halt, and regain control. Half-halt in the corner. Inside leg to push the shoulder up into the outside rein. And look to the next jump.

I never let go of my fear. It always rode right along side with me, in my back pocket or under my chin strap. But, sometimes, it didn't drive me but shaped me. It allowed me to calculate all the variables and set myself and the horse up for success for that giant leap into the unknown. And, when the leap was over, I could take control again and guide the horse to the next jump.

I've already started taking the reins and using fear to help guide me, even though it's not 2014. I'll never be able to let go of my fear. But, in 2014, I can keep it from controlling my every move. Here's to pushing forward in 2014, to new adventures, taking advantage of all my talents, and setting myself and my family up for the same successes I experienced in the hunter arena.

Short and Sweet

Small things make the world go round. Make the world a little bit better.

Good music about sheep. Mascara. Re-discovering something old anew.

Productivity

Productivity is harder than one might think, especially for a girl who does too much; has her hand in too many pots. Do I work on this project or that one? What happens when I have a bit of inspiration for the project I'm not working on?

Why do I always have inspiration for the project that isn't due right now; that has no technical due date?

I try to give myself little windows of time. I know that I run in sprints of 20 minutes and two hours. Sometimes, satisfying the thing that isn't necessary right this minute for 20 minutes gives me the ability to focus for those two hours and knock something else out with a more pressing time line.

Sometimes it backfires, and I move on to another 20 minute window of something.

Regardless, it all gets done. Everything gets wrapped up in a neat little bow, and the box is ticked as complete. Eventually. 20 minutes and 2 hours at a time.

Making Things

I'm not what my office would call a "doodler."

I suppose I should qualify. I work for a hybrid advertising firm in Nampa, ID. We do everything in house; creative production, media buys, strategy. If it has to do with marketing, we do it in house, all under one roof. That's quite a bit of work, and someone has to do all the invoicing. That's my job. Okay, it's one of my jobs.

My point still stands. I'm not a "doodler."

I am, however, quite creative. I write. Not as much as I want, and I haven't written anything I actually like in quite sometime, but, I do write.

I also put things together. 3-D things. No, not clay or anything else that would be considered a sculpture. I love running fiber through my hands watching it turn in to something. Personally, spinning is my favorite. There's nothing quite like starting out with a bundle of fluff and coaxing it to a workable size and then watching the spindle on my spinning wheel gobble it up and turn it in to something useful. I like knitting too; sweaters and scarves and the like. And toys. Small little knit toys. Even before I had a kid to give them to.

Sewing is pretty great too. It's kind of like spinning; materials run through a machine to turn into something completely different. I have plans to cut and make a dress, a skirt, pants, a jacket, bags, purses, padfolios, tablet cases and covers, and, yes, toys for the little ones. Though, I really do prefer to knit those.

Lately though, I've been returning to one of my first 3-D loves: beads. As a kid, I made so many things from beads it's a bit sickening. My bead collection was one even for professional beaders to envy. I gave it away to someone at some point along the way. Seed beads were my favorite. Tiny beads and toddlers sound counter-intuitive, but, it oddly works out okay. At least, it does with my toddler. Better than spinning or knitting.

Pics or it didn't happen, right?

Soon as I'm happy with 'em. Till then, patience.

Hello, Arcata

Graduating is great. I have a piece of paper that validates me as an adult. I also got to go on a trip; a return to a place I once called home: Arcata, CA.

I left the small city of hills and forest for Boise, ID to be with my now-husband Sam. As much as I love the City of Trees, leaving Arcata left a small hole in my heart. I've missed the giant trees and the salt in the air. Taking the ocean out of my life was difficult. So, graduation gift: travel to the coast.

So, my husband and I packed up the truck full of clothes and toys, gently shoved our two year old in his seat, and embarked on a projected 13 hour long road trip. A potty training 2 year old and 13 hours in the car? Sounds like a great idea, doesn't it?

(Spoiler: we were two hours off on our expected travel time. The trip, however, really was pretty darn great. On the road at 6:30 am and only a half an hour behind schedule.)

A fairly grueling 5.5 hours to Winnemucca, and we stopped for lunch. There's a lovely park by a museum that we've stopped at on road trips before the kid. We thought it would be a pretty good place to stop with. The park was empty when we arrived, but quickly populated by a family with a van and children of all ages and an old man with a dog and cigarettes. We ate our lunch accompanied by the perfume of nicotine and the screams of children other than our own, took the kid to the playground, loaded up, and got back on the road.

Next stop: Fernley, just before heading north again to Susanville. Jack-in-the-Box treated us fairly well with clean restrooms, hot food, and data service. We downloaded more music. The middle of nowhere had gotten awfully dull with only three play lists. There's the naivete of the modern world: you expect cell service and data, but, it just doesn't always happen.

More gas in Susanville, a quick stretch of the legs, and back on the road. It wasn't until here that the two year old started getting fed up with the drive. Toys and cows and nori snacks satiated him though. And we pushed on.

Subway in Redding and then back on the road. The husband had driven the entire time thus far. His shoulder was done for and his mind shot. I took the wheel to go up and over the last four hills.

Okay, they're not hills so much as they are mountains. An older, narrow mountain road with switchbacks and steep grades. I'd driven it countless times when I was younger and going to HSU. Day, night, sleet, snow, rain, and even sun. Never in a car as nice as my husband's Dodge Dakota. I had a '78 Volkswagon Westfalia (mine was brown and much more beat up) and an '87 Honda Civic when I drove the 299 before. Up and over Buckhorn, the biggest hill, and the dirt started to change a bit. It lost some of the red and started gaining the darker, more familiar color of Humboldt County. Whiskeytown is a slow drive. Though the miles are few, they last forever. Oregon Mountain is smaller and much more manageable than the notorious Buckhorn. And here the scent hit me. Pine resin started disappearing and the earth started taking over. I looked at my husband and said, "It smells like home."

Berry Summit is next to nothing. It's Lord Ellis that I hate. That last climb up is completed with a peak at the ocean and the full earth, ocean, and mold Humboldt County perfume, and followed by a slope down with switch back and hard turns that curve around the mountain every which way. A bit much for this coastal girl, but with a huge reward at the end. A place where limits are stretched and comfort is found. A place with fog-ripened tomatoes and home grown cheese around every corner. A place where the trees are taller than the sky and the people say hello.

Hello, Arcata. It's been a while.

Gamification

Gamification is all the rage. We all did it back in school. Teachers had giant plastic things they'd hang on a white board with pockets that held cards and we played Jeopardy! (or something like it) as a study aid. The entire class got involved all at once, we all helped each other out and reviewed material, and, somehow, it stuck a little bit better.

Now that I've grown up, not much has changed.

Okay, quite a bit has changed. I'm now the one charged with creating the game. And the object is no longer trying to get material to sink in for the purpose of passing a test. Most recently, it was all about highlighting how actions in business have direct consequences.

It all comes back to time entry. Time isn't entered, expenses aren't entered, but money still flows out the door and expenses have to be paid. I was charged with creating a game to show this. Enter 1,000 blank white cards. Or, as I like to call it, 10,000 blank white cards because we start out with all the blank white cards when starting a round of this game.

The last time I played this game was back in 2009. It was just a few nights before my wedding. And we had all had a bit too much tequila. The game was less focused on generating something fun to play later and more focused on stupid things you can get drunk people to do. Eventually, we all needed burritos and gave up on the game.

This gamification at the office would have to go much differently.

So, I went to my best friend, the spread sheet. I set up situations that let to consequences and rewards. A deck of 150 or so cards, a pile of fake money (yes, I cut out 1,000 fake $100 bills with a paper cutter on the weekend following the Fourth of July this year), and a few test plays later, and the game was born.

I have to admit, the game was a bit of a flop. It ran longer than I had wanted, and game play worked much different with a large group of people than it did for my husband and I. But, it all stuck. Money flew off the table on to the floor and was no longer available in the game. Actions had consequences, and my co-workers learned. I think. I hope.

More importantly, I learned. Test play has to happen with the number of people the game is intended for for it to work. Game play has to be let go and allowed to happen rather than discussing every point of the game itself. Sure, I'll try it again in a heart beat. I never knew the nerdy side of me that plays games might enjoy making one up from scratch. Next time, more play testing, and pre-made widgets.

Happy gaming!

Learning

It's kind if silly, but I feel I must start this by saying that I hate gerunds, or verbs made nouns by adding -ing to them. They always feel lost. Never-the-less, this post is indeed about learning. Not education, but learning.

Rather, he doesn't ever slow down until he's so tired he just has to stop. I'm constantly amazed by his energy levels. And he's not the first kid to have shown me energy output of epic proportions. What truly amazes me though is he never has this urge that many adults do; an urge to get away from everyone and everything for a while just for the purpose of resting. 

He's also always learning. Whether it's about how he can move and twist and run and climb or it's about the specific properties of chalk and what happen when it's thrown on the concrete with some amount of force, the gears in his head are always turning. Everything is till so new to him that even repeated experiences are learning experiences.

I imagine those gears don't stop when he goes to sleep either.

A while back, on a day when I was feeling particularly exhausted, a post from Ron Shaich, CEO and founder of Panera, popped up in my LinkedIn news feed. The title, If You're Learning, You'll Never Need to Recharge, was intriguing, and I needed a break for a minute. I put aside the numbers I was inputting in to a database and read the article. It was something of a life changing moment for me; one of those moments when everything just falls in to place. The title of the article says everything. The gist of it: he goes on to say that despite running around the country constantly, he doesn't ever feel the need to re-charge; to stop and escape from everything for a time. He suggests it's because he constantly learns new lessons and takes on new challenges.

I think he must have taken a lesson from a child.

I also think he's right.

I'm always happiest when I have a new puzzle in front of me, especially if it's a puzzle I've never solved before, but even if it's similar, but not a carbon-copy to, one that I've already mastered, I'm a pretty darn happy girl. Learning keeps me going. Trying more, better, bigger things recharges my batteries and keeps me doing what I love and what I have to do well.

Charge forth, I say, and take over the world one new challenge at a time. Do what I did yesterday, but do it better today. Do something new today, so that I can learn and do it better tomorrow. I can never know too much. 

What's for Dinner?

Tonight I was in the kitchen for the second night in a row. This is a rare treat I made a lovely alfredo sauce with Italian sausage from the Boise Coop. I added in a cheese rind for extra creaminess. The whole dinner cost maybe 10 bucks. And there's delicious delicious leftovers.

A note on cheese rinds: these little pieces of wonder are amazing. I find them in packs of two, usually from Parmesan, for about 2 bucks a bundle. Add them to cream sauces, soups, risotto, anything creamy and savory that needs to simmer on direct heat for a while, and your food immediately becomes richer, for almost no money.

On the menu this week:
Several stir frys, some vegetarian, some with leftover chicken (thank you Bountiful Baskets for the Asian veggie pack)
Skirt steak, probably with a chimichurri sauce
Salad before the husband goes to Kung Fu
Popcorn. With nutritional yeast. The husband is making it now.
Pineapple upside down cake for the little one's birthday.

Stats

I'm a writer, yes. I like to manipulate words. But, I also manipulate numbers. More often than not, I'm paid for my ability to manipulate numbers, not words. Thus, I find things like statics very interesting, and get distracted by them.

I have more Germans reading this than anyone else. Not that that says much as not very many people read this, and it doesn't help that I was on hiatus for two years. All of which are interesting, at least to me.

What will the stats look like tomorrow?

Who am I?

Graduation season has come and gone. Recent graduates either have jobs or have settled back in to their parents’ basements. Regardless, they’re ready to go out in to the real world.

This year, I’ve joined those graduates. After eleven long years, I’m fully validated as an individual ready to conquer life.

Stop. Look left. Look right. But there’s not a street to cross. There’s nothing there. There’s no cars, no trees, no dogs peeing on fire hydrants. Just two tunnels with big, open possibilities on either side. Or maybe they converge at the end.

I spent my eleven year long journey to holding a Bachelors of Arts in English developing an identity in offices across two states. The only time I didn’t hold a “real” job was my first semester as a college freshman. After that, it was classic skirts and pinstripe pants and cardigans and casual Fridays. It’s a life so many college graduates just can’t figure out how to slip in to after four years of pajamas and band t-shirts being acceptable every day. Not to mention the work ethic and inability to always just make it up later.

How, then, is it that I’m sitting here with a degree in my hand and yet I’m still lost? I have the validation from an institution coupled with the experience and work ethic of an accomplished professional. This should be easy, right?

Of course it’s not. It’s hard. And, it’s harder for me because I’ve spent the last eleven years developing two identities.

School let me develop one identity alongside a passion: reading and writing and writing about reading and writing. Classes taught me to develop characters on paper and analyze their actions to discover a deeper meaning about the world. It taught me why i comes before e except after c and the difference between using and not using the Oxford comma. I learned to navigate bureaucracy and to not stop asking for help until I received the help that I needed, not just the help others wanted to give. I learned perseverance and that work can indeed be fun.

But school wasn’t the only part of my eleven year long excursion to receiving a diploma. I worked the entire time to support myself and my family. I worked in a position completely unrelated to  my degree (accounting) and put numbers in columns and told people how much money to pay the government and when they needed to do it. I moved to the private sector and did the same thing, this time in my industry, at a bookstore, for a year and a half before being laid off. Six months later, I found myself once again keeping books, this time for an advertising agency in Nampa, Idaho.

But, while my job title has always indicated a deep level of familiarity with which numbers should go in which columns, my duties have always encompassed more. My attention to detail and my understanding of the English language has lead to me doing quite a bit of copyediting and even some copywriting. Everything from advertising copy and press releases to emails to the boss have been scrutinized by my eye for not just periods and commas but also for subtler meaning and understanding, and ensuring the message conveys the totality of the writer’s intent. I’ve spent hours preparing and executing trainings of all varieties, from learning a system and becoming an expert to sharing my knowledge and expertise with numbers and words and everything in between. I’ve done the mundane: answer phones and order supplies and make copies. I’ve done the complex: build and re-build manuals and instructions to stand the test of time.

My title, either work or school, doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.

I’ve one one battle: I’ve earned my degree. There’s pictures of it on the internet. Now, it’s time to win the next, and reconcile my two identities fully. Here I go.