...even if you can't get yourself to the gym often enough, you can tell your doctor, with complete honesty, that you walk A LOT.
...you can get bananas on the street and cough medicine from the pharmacy at almost any time of day, and just around the corner.
...you can often avoid cleaning snow off your car, as long as you're willing to clean it off your boots and avoid slipping.
...when you slip because your boots are worn from walking in the snow, people--even complete strangers--sometimes DO offer to help.
...when you've been walking or slipping for what feels like too long, there's a chance that you're almost home.
...home may not have a lot of space, but if you're lucky, it does have
neighbors, and friendly nearby stores, and even a doorman who welcomes
you home.
Sometimes, living in the city is tough. But a lot of the time, it's, well, really okay.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Freelancer's Day Off
It was my turn to walk "safety patrol" outside one of my kids' schools. Since it is an activity occurring for several hours in the middle of the
afternoon, the obligation required my taking off from work--in my profession,
it's not necessarily okay just to disappear in the middle of the
afternoon.
It is not an easy thing for a freelancer to take a day off. A lost day of work, after all, means a lost day of pay, and a freelancer never quite knows when lost days of pay will come too frequently, causing "freelance" to turn into "not working." So, day taken, I was determined to use all of its minutes, not just the safety patrol ones, to the fullest. And what does a freelancer do on a "day off"?
1. Schedule appointments. It can be tricky to handle personal appointments on a TV production schedule, so the day off is prime time.
2. Make a "to-do" list, almost a waste of time on a work day, as nothing would actually get "done."
3. Call the people who can't be called from work--because it's too personal or too complicated or requires having too much paperwork in front of you--but who can only be called during work hours.
4. Homemake. Normally seen in the noun form "homemaker." Do things like cooking and cleaning and laundry. Very glad there are not too many of these days off. I'm not that good at the homemaking.
5. Have a long-intended coffee with a friend. Because you both need it.
6. Observe family life while in the middle of it, not by phone or text. I kind of like this one.
7. Check off all the items on a "to-do" list, a list that would ordinarily have many things undone at day's end. Turns out there were a bunch of things left today too.
Today, I patrolled school streets (wearing a nifty vest and everything!), generated a few meals and a great deal of clean laundry, handled a leaky faucet and a few appointments, and even had a cup of coffee. Not bad for a freelancer's day off. And as for the "to-do" list? I'm a freelancer, not a miracle-worker.
It is not an easy thing for a freelancer to take a day off. A lost day of work, after all, means a lost day of pay, and a freelancer never quite knows when lost days of pay will come too frequently, causing "freelance" to turn into "not working." So, day taken, I was determined to use all of its minutes, not just the safety patrol ones, to the fullest. And what does a freelancer do on a "day off"?
1. Schedule appointments. It can be tricky to handle personal appointments on a TV production schedule, so the day off is prime time.
2. Make a "to-do" list, almost a waste of time on a work day, as nothing would actually get "done."
3. Call the people who can't be called from work--because it's too personal or too complicated or requires having too much paperwork in front of you--but who can only be called during work hours.
4. Homemake. Normally seen in the noun form "homemaker." Do things like cooking and cleaning and laundry. Very glad there are not too many of these days off. I'm not that good at the homemaking.
5. Have a long-intended coffee with a friend. Because you both need it.
6. Observe family life while in the middle of it, not by phone or text. I kind of like this one.
7. Check off all the items on a "to-do" list, a list that would ordinarily have many things undone at day's end. Turns out there were a bunch of things left today too.
Today, I patrolled school streets (wearing a nifty vest and everything!), generated a few meals and a great deal of clean laundry, handled a leaky faucet and a few appointments, and even had a cup of coffee. Not bad for a freelancer's day off. And as for the "to-do" list? I'm a freelancer, not a miracle-worker.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Guarantees
My son, lover of claw machines, has progressed to little figure mystery
packs. For anywhere from three to five dollars, seemingly a bargain, you
can acquire a small toy, often with moveable pieces and accessories.
The catch--you don't know what the toy looks like until you've purchased
and torn open the pack. You might become the proud owner of the cutest
or most useful little thing. Or you might end up with something you
never wanted or needed, and with three to five dollars less in your
pocket. There's just no guarantee.
As I try to explain to him the risk of his endeavor, I realize that a great many of my endeavors are not that different. Sign an agreement for payment when a project succeeds? Sure. But what if it never succeeds, and the agreement is worth less than the subway fare you spent to go for the signing? Take a job that seems lasting? Seems like a good idea. But what is lasting these days, really? Make choices that allow you to spend time with your family? Excellent. But do you really spend that time, and at what cost to your career and bank account?
The truth is, there really are no guarantees, in mystery packs or in life. You can feel around, trying to make sure the parts that you want are there. You can do your "research." You can make sure you have the resources (three to five dollars or babysitting or means of transport). But when you tear open the package or the job or the piece of life, what you see isn't always what you expected. And often, it's not really what you wanted. Because there really are no guarantees.
So, I wonder, what do I tell my son? Do I keep letting him spend money to open the mystery packs--of figures and of life? And what do I tell myself? Do I simply accept the lack of guarantees, and keep opening my own "mystery packs," often at a cost well beyond three to five dollars?
I suppose that for both of us, there is a lesson for life--if you never try a "mystery pack," you'll never really know what you could have had. And if you try too many, you're liable to pay a high price and get a whole lot of what you don't want or need. There are no guarantees, but there's still research and adventure, and the value of trying. Which is, I guess, what I'll tell us both. So that we can keep unwrapping mysteries, without being too disappointed with the outcome.
As I try to explain to him the risk of his endeavor, I realize that a great many of my endeavors are not that different. Sign an agreement for payment when a project succeeds? Sure. But what if it never succeeds, and the agreement is worth less than the subway fare you spent to go for the signing? Take a job that seems lasting? Seems like a good idea. But what is lasting these days, really? Make choices that allow you to spend time with your family? Excellent. But do you really spend that time, and at what cost to your career and bank account?
The truth is, there really are no guarantees, in mystery packs or in life. You can feel around, trying to make sure the parts that you want are there. You can do your "research." You can make sure you have the resources (three to five dollars or babysitting or means of transport). But when you tear open the package or the job or the piece of life, what you see isn't always what you expected. And often, it's not really what you wanted. Because there really are no guarantees.
So, I wonder, what do I tell my son? Do I keep letting him spend money to open the mystery packs--of figures and of life? And what do I tell myself? Do I simply accept the lack of guarantees, and keep opening my own "mystery packs," often at a cost well beyond three to five dollars?
I suppose that for both of us, there is a lesson for life--if you never try a "mystery pack," you'll never really know what you could have had. And if you try too many, you're liable to pay a high price and get a whole lot of what you don't want or need. There are no guarantees, but there's still research and adventure, and the value of trying. Which is, I guess, what I'll tell us both. So that we can keep unwrapping mysteries, without being too disappointed with the outcome.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Parents' Committee
I spent an hour of my day as part of the Parents' Committee at my daughters' theater group. While the teens are singing and dancing, a small group of parents meets monthly to figure out raising money and handling logistics so that the kids can sing and dance more. I suppose it's like a teeny-tiny PTA (though with my kids in multiple schools, I have rarely worked out time to spend at PTA meetings).
What's interesting about this committee, however, is that just as my kids are getting to the point of doing things on their own--traveling on their own, keeping track of their schedules on their own, making sure they have lunch money or food on their own--I am suddenly involved in making sure they are not really "on their own" in the endeavor.
When the hour was over, I found myself thinking a lot about the "on their own" phenomenon. While it is true that we teach our kids to be independent, and while it is certainly true that in our family, many opportunities have opened up only when the kids could pursue them on their own (without complex babysitting and transportation plans), the reality is that "on their own" still requires support. The lunch or lunch money is still about my fishing out a $5 or my making sure there are lunch supplies in the house. The getting to and from still requires the filling of metrocards and the discussion of daytime and nighttime logistics. And above all, the endeavors, whatever they are, still call for discussion (and more discussion, and more), kind of like a committee meeting, or a series of subcommittee meetings.
I went to a Parents' Committee meeting today, and I would like to think that I made some contribution to my kids' activities, and along the way, a contribution to other kids' endeavors too. Because, in parenting, "on their own" is a relative term. Often, it takes a committee to make sure "on their own" is a success, and to make sure "on their own" doesn't just mean "alone" in life's decisions. It's a tricky balance, especially when you thought that your "committee" work was a thing of the past and that your management of kids' lives was a piece from yesterday. Turns out that there's plenty of room for parenting, by committee or otherwise, even at the point of "on their own."
What's interesting about this committee, however, is that just as my kids are getting to the point of doing things on their own--traveling on their own, keeping track of their schedules on their own, making sure they have lunch money or food on their own--I am suddenly involved in making sure they are not really "on their own" in the endeavor.
When the hour was over, I found myself thinking a lot about the "on their own" phenomenon. While it is true that we teach our kids to be independent, and while it is certainly true that in our family, many opportunities have opened up only when the kids could pursue them on their own (without complex babysitting and transportation plans), the reality is that "on their own" still requires support. The lunch or lunch money is still about my fishing out a $5 or my making sure there are lunch supplies in the house. The getting to and from still requires the filling of metrocards and the discussion of daytime and nighttime logistics. And above all, the endeavors, whatever they are, still call for discussion (and more discussion, and more), kind of like a committee meeting, or a series of subcommittee meetings.
I went to a Parents' Committee meeting today, and I would like to think that I made some contribution to my kids' activities, and along the way, a contribution to other kids' endeavors too. Because, in parenting, "on their own" is a relative term. Often, it takes a committee to make sure "on their own" is a success, and to make sure "on their own" doesn't just mean "alone" in life's decisions. It's a tricky balance, especially when you thought that your "committee" work was a thing of the past and that your management of kids' lives was a piece from yesterday. Turns out that there's plenty of room for parenting, by committee or otherwise, even at the point of "on their own."
Saturday, January 3, 2015
What Lingers
It has been years now since my time at ABC ended, but my hope for predictability lingers.
It has been over a year since I was really "between jobs," but the fear of joblessness lingers.
It has been a while since I counted every penny spent on afterschool snacks and "I wants" and things that just come up, but the memory of just small change in my pockets lingers.
It has been hundreds of afternoons since I was the one doing the daily bus-meeting and the transporting, but the wondering whether it was good for my family lingers.
It has been just days since I was away from home and the accompanying home chores and responsibilities, but the thoughts of that freedom linger.
It has been just hours since I woke from the good sleep I got without an alarm, and I am trying to make that rested feeling linger.
Some things don't go away, no matter how far we think we've come since they were present daily in our lives. The memories and the feelings linger, informing every bit of who we are today. In some ways, we never really do "get past" anything. Circumstances may be new, but the effects of what came before--for better or for worse--those linger on.
It has been over a year since I was really "between jobs," but the fear of joblessness lingers.
It has been a while since I counted every penny spent on afterschool snacks and "I wants" and things that just come up, but the memory of just small change in my pockets lingers.
It has been hundreds of afternoons since I was the one doing the daily bus-meeting and the transporting, but the wondering whether it was good for my family lingers.
It has been just days since I was away from home and the accompanying home chores and responsibilities, but the thoughts of that freedom linger.
It has been just hours since I woke from the good sleep I got without an alarm, and I am trying to make that rested feeling linger.
Some things don't go away, no matter how far we think we've come since they were present daily in our lives. The memories and the feelings linger, informing every bit of who we are today. In some ways, we never really do "get past" anything. Circumstances may be new, but the effects of what came before--for better or for worse--those linger on.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Today Is...
...The first day of a new year. Okay.
...The first day of a new month. Meaning bills to pay, and schedules to re-start. What exactly happened to the last month when I wasn't looking?
...The first day of the rest of your life. I suppose. Except that the rest of your life has a lot to with what happened before today, so today isn't ever quite the first day.
...A day to set new goals and make new plans for what lies ahead. Mostly, I'm cleaning up the clutter (literal and figurative) from what came before.
...A day to sleep late because you stayed up late (unless you fell asleep long before the "Happy New Year!").
...A day to rest up in preparation for what's down the road, whether it's the same as what was up the road, or completely different.
...A day filled with expectations, met and not. Which, in the end, makes it a little bit like every other "today" of the year...
...The first day of a new month. Meaning bills to pay, and schedules to re-start. What exactly happened to the last month when I wasn't looking?
...The first day of the rest of your life. I suppose. Except that the rest of your life has a lot to with what happened before today, so today isn't ever quite the first day.
...A day to set new goals and make new plans for what lies ahead. Mostly, I'm cleaning up the clutter (literal and figurative) from what came before.
...A day to sleep late because you stayed up late (unless you fell asleep long before the "Happy New Year!").
...A day to rest up in preparation for what's down the road, whether it's the same as what was up the road, or completely different.
...A day filled with expectations, met and not. Which, in the end, makes it a little bit like every other "today" of the year...
Thursday, January 1, 2015
New Year's Questions
On New Year's Eve, many people make resolutions--things they say they will surely do differently, see differently, handle differently.
I tend to come out of New Year's with far more questions than resolutions. Will I live smarter, or more successfully, or healthier? Will choices be easier to make? Will I get more sleep? Will I be a better spouse, parent, communicator? Will I hit next New Year's Eve with a significantly different view of life than I have now?
I suppose that the people who make resolutions are really just choosing to answer all these questions, or at least trying to make sure the answers will be good ones, which seems a bit overwhelming to me. The best I can do, I guess, is to ask the questions, because sometimes, we find our answers just by finding the right questions. Will I be richer, thinner, happier, healthier a year from now? Who knows? I have a hard time predicting tomorrow--how could I possibly predict next year? Hopefully, however, asking the questions is at least a step in the right direction.
I tend to come out of New Year's with far more questions than resolutions. Will I live smarter, or more successfully, or healthier? Will choices be easier to make? Will I get more sleep? Will I be a better spouse, parent, communicator? Will I hit next New Year's Eve with a significantly different view of life than I have now?
I suppose that the people who make resolutions are really just choosing to answer all these questions, or at least trying to make sure the answers will be good ones, which seems a bit overwhelming to me. The best I can do, I guess, is to ask the questions, because sometimes, we find our answers just by finding the right questions. Will I be richer, thinner, happier, healthier a year from now? Who knows? I have a hard time predicting tomorrow--how could I possibly predict next year? Hopefully, however, asking the questions is at least a step in the right direction.
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