If I walk a little farther, will the view become clearer?
If I work a little harder, will the path become easier?
If I care a little more, will others care more too?
If I stare a little longer, will the words make more sense?
If I listen a little longer, will the sentences tell a real story?
If I research a little deeper, will I have the answers?
If I open my mind a little more, will I ask the right questions?
If I look a little more inside, will I discover who I am?
If I look around a little more outside, will I discover where I should be?
There will always be farther and harder, longer, deeper, and more. Will they make a difference? Difficult to say. So I guess I just keep at it...
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
It's All Ice Cream
Having ventured beyond our normal neighborhood, we found ourselves with friends in an ice cream shoppe. (It seems to me that anyplace where you can buy ice cream and stay and eat it there should have that "ppe" at the end of its name). The list of flavors was impressive. There was even a printed card to explain some of the most creative among them. I picked one, and received a cup of it, the size of which I never allow myself. It was fantastic.
I had picked a flavor full of tastes I knew I liked, but the truth is, almost any flavor I could have picked from the list would have provided me with a larger than my normal, richer than my normal cup of ice cream. I had taken a long time making my choice, but essentially, with few exceptions, any choice would have been a good choice.
I wonder sometimes, as we look for the best jobs for ourselves, or the best schools for our kids, whether the same is true there. Obviously, we want things that fit--where we can feel comfortable and competent. We want things that provide us with the best opportunities, whether intellectual, social, or financial. But how often do we pass up things that, just like many of the flavors on the ice cream list, would provide us with a large, rich experience, perhaps just as large and rich as we think our "perfect" choice would? We spend a lot of time and energy trying to get it "just right." After all, we won't always be able to enjoy ice cream in an ice cream shoppe--our waistbands and wallets would surely suffer--so we want to make the experience perfect. But just as I realized in the ice cream shoppe that there were actually many good choices, perhaps in life, there are multiple good choices as well. Perhaps success, and happiness, rests not with getting exactly what you want, but with savoring whatever it is you get.
I enjoyed my chocolate raspberry ice cream immensely. I am hopeful that it won't ruin my enjoyment of smaller, less rich treats in the future. But I am also confident that thinking about it will remind me, at least once in a while, not to sweat some of the choices. Because sometimes, you do okay, no matter what you choose. Especially when it's all ice cream.
I had picked a flavor full of tastes I knew I liked, but the truth is, almost any flavor I could have picked from the list would have provided me with a larger than my normal, richer than my normal cup of ice cream. I had taken a long time making my choice, but essentially, with few exceptions, any choice would have been a good choice.
I wonder sometimes, as we look for the best jobs for ourselves, or the best schools for our kids, whether the same is true there. Obviously, we want things that fit--where we can feel comfortable and competent. We want things that provide us with the best opportunities, whether intellectual, social, or financial. But how often do we pass up things that, just like many of the flavors on the ice cream list, would provide us with a large, rich experience, perhaps just as large and rich as we think our "perfect" choice would? We spend a lot of time and energy trying to get it "just right." After all, we won't always be able to enjoy ice cream in an ice cream shoppe--our waistbands and wallets would surely suffer--so we want to make the experience perfect. But just as I realized in the ice cream shoppe that there were actually many good choices, perhaps in life, there are multiple good choices as well. Perhaps success, and happiness, rests not with getting exactly what you want, but with savoring whatever it is you get.
I enjoyed my chocolate raspberry ice cream immensely. I am hopeful that it won't ruin my enjoyment of smaller, less rich treats in the future. But I am also confident that thinking about it will remind me, at least once in a while, not to sweat some of the choices. Because sometimes, you do okay, no matter what you choose. Especially when it's all ice cream.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
In Control...Of Something
When I talk to friends looking for work, the most common thread among
them is a continuous feeling of lack of control over their
circumstances. While they may continually revise their resumes and cover
letters, while they may look daily for ways to lower living expenses
while they are short on income, while they may do research and network
and learn new skills and seem to be trying all the right things, they
still find themselves powerless to make a change in the circumstance
that matters most.
It is a feeling I have felt all too often myself. No matter what job we do, what we accomplish in that job (even if what we accomplish is mostly just a weekly paycheck) makes us feel powerful, at least temporarily. We have done something that has made a difference in our field, to our co-workers, or for our families. How, then, do we find power when it feels as though we are stuck in the rut of the powerless?
What I have found myself suggesting, and trying to do myself, is finding little areas of power in life. When we are in periods of work uncertainty, we won't always be able to find the right people to talk to at a company, but with a little effort, we can find things that are lost in our apartments, which can give us a new sense of control over our surroundings. We might not be able to reconstruct a daily life like the one we had, but if we can construct a shelf or a homemade birthday cake or a historical diorama with our kids, we feel good having something to show for our time and energy. We might be unable to change the money coming in, but we can take charge of what's going out (not a bad habit, even when the work isn't a problem).
The point is, lack of control when it comes to our work lives has become more of an issue for many people, but it doesn't have to mean losing our control over the rest of our lives. Scrub a tub, so that it looks the way you want, and you're taking control. Teach your kids a new life skill so that you're not always doing whatever it is yourself, and you're taking control. Reach out to both people you know and people you don't, and you're taking control. Will it get you from Point A to Point B? Not always. But chances are, you'll feel much more in control of your trip.
It is a feeling I have felt all too often myself. No matter what job we do, what we accomplish in that job (even if what we accomplish is mostly just a weekly paycheck) makes us feel powerful, at least temporarily. We have done something that has made a difference in our field, to our co-workers, or for our families. How, then, do we find power when it feels as though we are stuck in the rut of the powerless?
What I have found myself suggesting, and trying to do myself, is finding little areas of power in life. When we are in periods of work uncertainty, we won't always be able to find the right people to talk to at a company, but with a little effort, we can find things that are lost in our apartments, which can give us a new sense of control over our surroundings. We might not be able to reconstruct a daily life like the one we had, but if we can construct a shelf or a homemade birthday cake or a historical diorama with our kids, we feel good having something to show for our time and energy. We might be unable to change the money coming in, but we can take charge of what's going out (not a bad habit, even when the work isn't a problem).
The point is, lack of control when it comes to our work lives has become more of an issue for many people, but it doesn't have to mean losing our control over the rest of our lives. Scrub a tub, so that it looks the way you want, and you're taking control. Teach your kids a new life skill so that you're not always doing whatever it is yourself, and you're taking control. Reach out to both people you know and people you don't, and you're taking control. Will it get you from Point A to Point B? Not always. But chances are, you'll feel much more in control of your trip.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
It's Not The Plague
Tonight, with the help of a preschool coloring book Haggadah and paper bag puppets representing plagues from frogs to darkness, I recounted the Passover story with a table full of relatives. The paper bags made it pretty amusing, but as I realized my vehement reaction to having the "lice" plague puppet anywhere near my end of the table, I started to think about all the plagues, and the "plagues" with which we deal each day.
Each day, there are plenty of things to complain about, from the cold that has gone through our household and landed squarely on us, to work situations we struggle to manage, to difficulties with our kids that we attempt to handle. It can be overwhelming. Tonight, however, frog puppet in hand, I tried to imagine adding an invasion of frogs or locusts to our daily difficulties. I tried to imagine three days of darkness, or diseases or deaths completely surrounding us. We can choose to view the "Ten Plagues" portion of the Haggadah literally or not, but either way, recounting the plagues gives us a little perspective on the common cold and the late paycheck. It's not that they don't matter. It's just that they start to seem a whole lot more manageable.
I have experienced Passover seders for years--long ones and short ones, ones geared toward kids and ones geared specifically toward women. But somehow, tonight's, puppets and all, made a particular impression. While some of the things in our lives may "plague" us, I figure we're a lot better off than we may have thought.
Each day, there are plenty of things to complain about, from the cold that has gone through our household and landed squarely on us, to work situations we struggle to manage, to difficulties with our kids that we attempt to handle. It can be overwhelming. Tonight, however, frog puppet in hand, I tried to imagine adding an invasion of frogs or locusts to our daily difficulties. I tried to imagine three days of darkness, or diseases or deaths completely surrounding us. We can choose to view the "Ten Plagues" portion of the Haggadah literally or not, but either way, recounting the plagues gives us a little perspective on the common cold and the late paycheck. It's not that they don't matter. It's just that they start to seem a whole lot more manageable.
I have experienced Passover seders for years--long ones and short ones, ones geared toward kids and ones geared specifically toward women. But somehow, tonight's, puppets and all, made a particular impression. While some of the things in our lives may "plague" us, I figure we're a lot better off than we may have thought.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Reading The Back Story
Quite often, though we may work with people directly or indirectly for many hours over many days, we don't really know much about them outside of the narrow world of that work. Today, I had the occasion to talk to a co-worker and find out a little about where she came from, what she wants, and why she does what she does. In just fifteen minutes, I suddenly had a different picture than a year of daily co-working had given me, and because of that picture, a new perspective on her work, and on my own.
While it is always nice to get to know someone better, what struck me as interesting here was the amount of (I can't resist this soap word) back story we bring to whatever job we do. Why did we come to where we are now, and how did we get in? What past experiences influence how we react to things now? What do we really want, and what are we willing to do to get it?
As on a well-written soap opera, in life, there is usually a back story that drives the action that we see each day. We can certainly react to and work with just what we see--lots of work can get done that way. But when we take a moment to factor in back stories--our own, and those of our co-workers--we are likely to work better, and to be better as a team. We may all be motivated by doing a good job in the moment, but our individual back stories tend to determine what really motivates us, so it matters that people know them, so that we can motivate our teams accordingly.
Today, I got a little reminder that back story is much more than a soap opera term. It matters at least as much in life as it does on the screen. So, while we're facing things head on, we shouldn't forget to read the back story. It may turn out to be exactly what we need to know.
While it is always nice to get to know someone better, what struck me as interesting here was the amount of (I can't resist this soap word) back story we bring to whatever job we do. Why did we come to where we are now, and how did we get in? What past experiences influence how we react to things now? What do we really want, and what are we willing to do to get it?
As on a well-written soap opera, in life, there is usually a back story that drives the action that we see each day. We can certainly react to and work with just what we see--lots of work can get done that way. But when we take a moment to factor in back stories--our own, and those of our co-workers--we are likely to work better, and to be better as a team. We may all be motivated by doing a good job in the moment, but our individual back stories tend to determine what really motivates us, so it matters that people know them, so that we can motivate our teams accordingly.
Today, I got a little reminder that back story is much more than a soap opera term. It matters at least as much in life as it does on the screen. So, while we're facing things head on, we shouldn't forget to read the back story. It may turn out to be exactly what we need to know.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Steps We Take
Having gotten my last child onto his crowded school bus, I headed off to face my day,
walking a block I rarely do, where I came upon a line of small school
buses that stretched around two corners. Waiting outside one of the
block's bigger buildings were teachers who met every bus, carrying
backpacks if necessary, holding hands of children small and large who
cautiously emerged from each small yellow vehicle. I was on the block for barely a
minute, only slowed by navigating through the crowd of waiting teachers,
but as I continued past bus after bus waiting to discharge its
passengers, I could tell that this was an experience that would stick
with me far beyond that minute. When I send my children off to school, I
wonder how they will do on today's test, or how they will manage with
the richer kids or the smarter kids or the kids who annoy them. I wonder
how they will handle the crush of other students, the keeping together
of their own stuff, the independence forced upon them at what sometimes
seems an early age.
In my minute on this block, I felt both warmed by the gentleness of the bus monitors and teachers who guided the children off the buses, and chilled by all the things these kids' parents must wonder when they put their kids on those buses. I felt suddenly lucky for how easy my kids' lives really are. I felt grateful that there are teachers who stand outside school buildings and hold children's hands if they need it. And most of all, I felt happy that I had found myself walking on this block, because sometimes it takes walking a totally different path, even just for a minute, to realize how simple the steps we take every day really are.
In my minute on this block, I felt both warmed by the gentleness of the bus monitors and teachers who guided the children off the buses, and chilled by all the things these kids' parents must wonder when they put their kids on those buses. I felt suddenly lucky for how easy my kids' lives really are. I felt grateful that there are teachers who stand outside school buildings and hold children's hands if they need it. And most of all, I felt happy that I had found myself walking on this block, because sometimes it takes walking a totally different path, even just for a minute, to realize how simple the steps we take every day really are.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Daytime Emmys 2015
The Daytime Emmy nominations were announced today, and I was excited to
see the names of twenty-some odd years worth of my co-workers all over them.
There are, of course, countless people with whom I worked in soaps--on different shows, but still producing and
writing and composing and lighting. There are the people who
transitioned from soaps to talk shows, and children's media people I've
gotten to know through the Children's Media Association. Even though I am not "in daytime" this year,
it is still where I am connected, meaning today felt like a big day.
On a daily basis, I don't think much about not being in daytime anymore. I think about having work, in whatever area. I think about finding satisfying collaborations, wherever they may be. I look for new challenges and great co-workers, and I have been lucky to find them, at least some of the time.
A year ago, I had the surprise of being nominated myself, for my work on the online version of One Life to Live. Today, when the Emmy nominations were announced, I felt both connected and disconnected--connected, because I knew so many of the nominees, and disconnected, because it suddenly felt like a long time since I was part of that category, a category in which I lived for so many years, even up until a year ago.
But today, no matter where I am (and some days, I'm not sure), I simply offer huge congratulations to all the nominees, especially those who have shaped my career over the last twenty-plus years. It makes me happy to see that daytime is still alive and well, and that some really good people are out there keeping it that way. And who knows? Maybe next year, or someday, I'll be back.
On a daily basis, I don't think much about not being in daytime anymore. I think about having work, in whatever area. I think about finding satisfying collaborations, wherever they may be. I look for new challenges and great co-workers, and I have been lucky to find them, at least some of the time.
A year ago, I had the surprise of being nominated myself, for my work on the online version of One Life to Live. Today, when the Emmy nominations were announced, I felt both connected and disconnected--connected, because I knew so many of the nominees, and disconnected, because it suddenly felt like a long time since I was part of that category, a category in which I lived for so many years, even up until a year ago.
But today, no matter where I am (and some days, I'm not sure), I simply offer huge congratulations to all the nominees, especially those who have shaped my career over the last twenty-plus years. It makes me happy to see that daytime is still alive and well, and that some really good people are out there keeping it that way. And who knows? Maybe next year, or someday, I'll be back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)