Archive for the ‘creativity’ Category

Disconnection

A perfect confluence of events:

  • my laptop adapter died on Friday and the new one wasn’t delivered until late this afternoon
  • my husband spent the last three days holed up editing video
  • the TV and spare computer were stolen last month
  • this Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were oddly clear of any appointments

Over the last three days, I have gotten more done on the domestic front than I’ve gotten done in the previous six weeks.  In addition to soloing on the regular upkeep of the house – dishes, food, litterbox – while Scott remained glued to two computer monitors, I:

  • hung four pieces of artwork
  • emptied an entire room of the crap I’d dumped in it
  • folded close to a dozen loads of laundry
  • vacuumed the entire house
  • cleaned the bathroom

Plus, I:

  • wrote the marketing copy for a new business idea long hand
  • enjoyed a really long evening out with a dear friend
  • reread a novel
  • wrote down my dreams
  • meditated
  • lent my audio expertise from a previous life to Scott’s video project
  • gave my carpel tunnel a rest

What would disconnectivity do for you?

Day 19: Camping (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

My mother has been known to say that I was born in the dirt. By which she means I was camping by the time I was six months old.

That’s tent camping, for those of you who do the RV thing.

Many of my childhood memories involve firewood, dirt, sleeping bags, bikes and fighting with my brother for the front seat as we drove around the country looking for places to set up camp. We’d do this for two weeks straight with my dad every summer and periodically with my mom. By the time I was a freshman in college, the only Christmas gift I really wanted was a tent. And when my husband and I were planning to move from California to Pennsylvania, we loaded the sleeping bags, tent and camping box into the back of the car for a month of travel.

Over the years, I’ve camped:

  • In the sweltering heat of Death Valley
  • On the god-forsaken Outer Banks
  • At the edge of the Grand Canyon
  • On a dewy Lexington, Kentucky horse farm
  • Under giant redwood trees in Big Sur
  • Amid the canyon walls of Zion National Park
  • In the torrential downpours of West Virginia

(A view of our South Dakota campground during the cross-country trek. A bison walked right on through later that day.)

As a kid, I camped because my parents camped. By the time I was 18, I started to camp because it made me feel better. Because it blurred my distinction between the material and immaterial worlds. Because I could satisfy the evolutionary part of me that just wants to scavenge.

In the end, though, I think camping draws out the perfect alchemy of child and adult in me. I love how responsible I feel when I camp. I also love that camping has enabled me to stay connected to the kid who’s forever on the hunt for arrowheads and snakes and is fairly certain that squirrels are looking for human friends and that fires are made out of magic.

Now who’s ready to celebrate with a s’mores?

Day 18: Cats (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

I am one cat shy, one husband too many and 15 years too young to be a crazy cat lady, but should the situation change and in 15 years I find myself widowed and still childless, I will undoubtedly stock up on cats.

The cats I grew up with were Paprika (a calico) and Dots (a stripped tabby). Both of these little ladies went around the block a few times, so our home was frequently blessed with kittens in boxes and sock drawers.  Alas, Paprika was run over by a cop in town when I was still in elementary school and I discovered Dots, curled up in the corner and cold, one afternoon in the 7th grade.

These days, my husband, Scott, and I are proud caretakers of Malcolm (aka Crazy) and Niko (aka Cow Cat). There could not be a 30-day series of celebrations without including them.

(Niko and Malcolm)

I adore these cats. Really. I’m just this side of obsessed with my unusually tall feline friends. But for the life of me I can’t quite figure out why. Sure, they’re damn cute. And they purr. And the imagination runs rampant with anthropomorphization. But they also cause my allergies to flare up, destroy furniture, act rather entitled and can be difficult to communicate with.

So I hunted around briefly for an explanation, thinking perhaps some researcher had written the final word on the appeal of these furry critters. No such luck, but the Pets for the Elderly Foundation did have this to say about pet ownership:

Pets offer affection, unconditional love, fight loneliness, and can help ease the loss of a loved one.

Somehow this doesn’t quite measure up for me. I’m 99% certain that my cats’ love is far from unconditional. I’m not even sure you could call it love. Mostly, I think we’re all pretending.

I won’t be home when I reach the big three-oh so I won’t be able to force the cats to celebrate with me. But that’s okay. I’ll be celebrating them, and all the love and imagination they somehow draw forth from me, making me an undoubtedly more generous person.

And because this is what people who are obsessed with their pets do, I’ll also probably be imagining that they’re trying to figure out how to operate the webcam so they can dial up Marrakesh and meow me a rendition of Happy Birthday. You know, what with their unconditional love and all.

Day 17: Sport (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

After leaving my grandmother’s funeral yesterday, I mostly wanted to curl up on the couch with a bottle of vino and watch Law & Order reruns. But since I don’t have cable – and therefore no 24/7 access to the series – my husband was able to convince me to hit up the gym.

My experience with sport began like it does for all kids – with trying to walk. And then run. And then by the time I was five, I was signed up for the town’s soccer team (read: running in frightened herds adjacent to the ball). Like most people who’ve played soccer for over 10 years, I have a respectable level of athleticism. I can move through a beautiful vinyasa (my apologies to those who insist that yoga is not sport); I can throw the occasional spiral; I can take down my husband in a game of racquetball; and I can hike in and out of the Grand Canyon in one day.

(Click to enlarge and you'll notice me on the far right and my name mentioned as an age group winner. More importantly, you'll notice my older brother 2nd from the left, whom I beat fair and square that day. Try not to get distracted by the three ripped men between us.)

In looking back over the years at the benefit of sport in my life, I keep circling around variations on the same theme: I feel comfortable in my body. By which I mean I understand how my body moves, what it needs, what it’s like to move powerfully through space, what it’s like to take up space.

I may not have done much at the gym yesterday – what with my mood and a nagging pain in my right ankle. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got 25 years of athleticism behind me, reminding me to keep breathing deeply, to square my shoulders toward the direction in which I want the ball to go and, mostly, to experience the fullness of being a powerful physical presence in this world.

Day 8: Second Grade (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

The first 30 years were, predictably, dominated by formal education. I started with pre-school in 1984 and wrapped up college in 2002. In those 18 years, there are some definite highlights:

  • Latin
  • Constitutional Law
  • Racquetball
  • History in Film

But Mrs. Arbo’s 2nd grade had me at hello.

Perhaps the most inventive teacher I ever had, Mrs. Arbo managed to create that unique alchemy of learning and fun that leaves a child thirsting for more. And for a child like me who was already nursing a love of story and a talent at writing, Mrs. Arbo’s insistence that her entire class write and illustrate their own books (to be published through her own Igor Publishing Company, naturally) was heavenly.

Here’s a little something from my bestseller, The Alien from Saturn:

The cover of my well-reviewed masterpiece, Magical Leprechauns:

And the inside back flap of the childhood classic, Santa Claus Makes a Mistake:

It’s possible I’ll write a book someday and I realize now that I’ll have the fortunate gift of being able to draw on important lessons learned in 2nd grade. For example:

  • Hire an illlustrator
  • Don’t use too many fonts or colors so as to confuse your reader
  • Telling the world your street address in your book may be unwise
  • Leave the furry friends out of the picture

So thanks, Mrs. Arbo. And thanks, 2nd grade.  Not only did you make the 1988-89 school year lots of fun, but you reinforced the idea that adults can be fun and that learning can be fun.

As for the books themselves, I have decided to add these titles to my resume as credibility builders. Who knows what successes await in my future as a result!


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“I had the good fortune of being in the audience as Jennifer gave a presentation to the Philadelphia Area Coaches Alliance. She did a great job helping us to understand the differences in the generations and how that shows up in the workplace. She's funny, engaging and articulate. Couldn't ask for more out of a speaker!”Jerry Wistrom, Hartford, CT