A Few Extra Minutes

This morning, when I had a few extra minutes, I sat down to write a blog. In a busy life, it's not always simple to fit in the time, so when I have a minute, I grab it.

Problem is, there's not much to say at 9:00 in the morning. With any luck, the morning routine has gone along without any undue drama, the work routine has not yet begun to have drama, and whatever personal drama may exist has been largely shelved on the journey from home to work (because who has time to deal with personal drama and get any work done?). I guess I'll have to grab a few extra minutes later.

Flash forward, to many hours later, when many, many things have happened, but I no longer have that few extra minutes, so I can't sit down to write a blog. Perhaps I should have grabbed that few extra minutes a few minutes longer.

Turns out that sometimes, a few extra minutes are a lot harder to come by than you'd think.

Tests

As my daughters come to the end of a week of midterms, I find myself wondering how it is that they do what they do--ingesting so much information that they then have to spit out during the course of an hourlong exam. They have been remarkably calm about the whole thing. They work hard all year, so perhaps it is not that hard for them. For me, it seems daunting.

It's not that we adults don't have to take tests. Even if we are not in school and studying from textbooks, we are tested multiple times every day. Often, our "scores" are even more important than those on midterms. They determine not just a grade-point average, but things like whether we will get or keep a job, the safety and comfort of our kids, and how we are viewed in the workplace or community. And we don't necessarily get a study period to prepare or a day off once we are done. We just move on to our next day of "testing," hopeful that we will score well when it matters, and at least survive each time.

I applaud my kids for handling the work and the stress of midterms--it is not an easy thing. Perhaps it's good preparation for the "exams" they will face down the road--the tests that will last for the rest of their lives.

That Which Remains

Friendship. The kind that isn't just about the past and that makes you want to reschedule a dinner even if you haven't gotten together in a bunch of months and won't get together in a bunch more months.
 
Work ethic. Skills may come and go. Proficiency may change as systems change. But a strong work ethic trumps them all.
 
Heart. The ability to do good just because you do, and to follow love and passion, even when logic may not be on your side.
 
Growth. Each experience you've had has helped you to grow in some way. And even when you feel as if all your steps are backward, that growth remains.
 
Loyalty. To dreams, to people, to what is right. Because you're never really alone in this world, so you'd best look out for the people who look out for you.
 
Faith. Not so much the religious kind, but the kind that inspires you to keep moving forward.
 
The Best You. Underneath all the drama and the baggage, you are still there, even when it feels as though the best you has disappeared.
 
When it sometimes seems as though everything changes, these are just a few of the things that remain.

The Work Speaks For Itself. Or Does It?

I have always been impressed by people who can clearly state that they are good at something. Even years ago, when I interviewed middle school girls for a career video I was making, one of the things that struck me most was their ability to say "I'm good at." It didn't matter so much what they were good at. What mattered was their ability to own their proficiency. I hope that now that they are grownups (the video was almost fifteen years ago), they are still that confident. Not cocky, but confident.
 
I have always found  it incredibly difficult to own my strengths in that way. While I will happily work my hardest or do my best, talking about it is not so easy. And I guess maybe that has been one of the good things to come out of these last few years of job exploration. In order to find work, I have to give a little more thought to what I'm good at. And in order to get and keep work, I have to own the things I'm good at. If I can't own my capabilities, how can I own the work? And if I can't toot my own horn, just a little, how can I expect people even to know that I am here to do the work? It's not about shameless self-promotion, or about credit over substance. It's about self-awareness, and about career survival. If you can't own your own value, why should anyone else even see that value?
 
We've all heard the expression, "the work speaks for itself." Once in a while, maybe it does. Once in a while, people will look beyond the work to see the person who did it. The rest of the time, it can't hurt to throw in a little voice of our own.

Just Do

I often wonder what would happen if I didn't do the laundry each week or buy milk when we're out. Would people in my house simply complain about running out of socks and underwear, or about being unable to make cereal or chocolate milk, or would they visit the grocery store or the laundry room? It's enough to make a person feel overwhelmed, unappreciated, perhaps even put upon.
 
Yet, in the midst of doing the laundry today, I suddenly had a flash of viewing it differently. In that moment, I thought about all the things that wouldn't happen in the world if people spent their time caught up in wondering why others were not doing. Whether it's the volunteers at an organization or the parents who watch your kids when you are running late or the visionaries who create gadgets and world-improving projects, there are people all over who don't wait for someone else to "buy the milk," who don't question why they are the ones doing the legwork or "the laundry." They just do.
 
My moment may have passed quickly, as I made my way upstairs and assigned folding duty. But the next time I am feeling overwhelmed or put upon, or particularly special because I'm the one guaranteeing milk and clean socks, perhaps I will think about "just doing," and about how much gets done in the world because of people who "just do." Whether they have clean socks and fresh milk or not.

Things Change

The DGA (Director's Guild of America) awards were this weekend.  With the exception of once, pre-marriage and pre-children, that I attended the ceremony in New York, I have spent a great many years watching soap colleagues go to the ceremony in LA (some expenses paid if we were nominated) and hearing the next day about the awards won and the celebrities and soap folks seen (or by middle of the night text if we were the winners).
 
This year, as I received update emails from the Hollywood Reporter, I realized that a moment really has passed. Through the hard work of people I know, soaps, now too few in number for their own category, found a spot in the dramatic TV category, but a spot mixed in with prime-time, higher budget offerings. Nomination lists included people I knew, but not people with whom I would discuss the next day what went on at the awards. I'm not sad I wasn't there--I haven't been to one in years . But I am struck by the reminder of how things change. Just when you think you've forgotten, you are reminded that things are changing all the time.
 
I hope some people I know won. While I haven't gone to the event, I have always enjoyed receiving the bright golden award in the mail when I was part of a winning directing team. It's nice to be recognized, and to be reminded of work that mattered, and I wish that for many people.
 
But things change. And who knows? Maybe change again, very soon.

Out On A Limb

I can't help it--I go out on limbs. While some people take logical, ordered steps through life, I more often decide things SHOULD happen, then scramble to accomplish all the parts to MAKE them happen. Why just sit under a tree or simply climb the tree when you can take it that one step farther to get what you really want?
 
The thing about limbs is that, while you may not lay any groundwork before you climb out there, you need to be quite sure to equip yourself with enough padding to be comfortable on the limb (because you might be there for a while) and to be safe if you fall. And while going out on limbs inherently suggests that you don't care about following the rules, it's worth at least some ground rules (or tree rules).
 
1. Make sure that what you're going out there for is worth it--not necessarily logically worth it, but definitely "heart of hearts" worth it.
 
2. If you're going out there in the first place, don't let any distraction on the ground, well, distract you. You won't get what you went out there for, and you will likely go "splat" in the process.
 
3. Don't think what you have to do on that limb will be easy. You went out there--plan to do what needs to be done to make it worth having gone.
 
4. Rest when you're done. Going out on a limb (as opposed to sitting under the tree) is hard. And since--if you're a habitual limb-goer like me--you will likely be doing it again soon, you need all the rest you can get.
 
5. Pat yourself on the back a little. It is much easier to say "no," to go with the flow, to back off the limb (or never go up in the first place). But much more satisfying, sometimes even exhilarating, to be out there. You certainly get to see more.
 
So long for now. I'm resting up for my next limb.