This is how I feel. All the time. Well, some of the time. Maybe mostly just yesterday.
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Leave a CommentCategory: Thoughtful Reflection
I am a cubicle warrior. Every conference call is a battle.
The other day I resolved a problem using web meeting. It was invigorating. I heard one end-user gasp – a rookie mistake, he should have been on mute – nevertheless I appreciated the subtle applause I so very much deserved for deftly navigating three web pages in the midst of a screen share.
I dial in two minutes early to each meeting: this demonstrates I’m organized and schedule my meetings appropriately. And given the day, I can decide whether or not to take part in the early-attendee-weather-banter or to remain on mute and multi-task, as I so efficiently do.
I’m a mute master. If someone, especially a client, makes a joke, I’m quick to un-mute and chuckle. I won’t leave them hanging. And I’m quick to mute again, lest I begin typing in the midst of the conversation and disrupt the flow of discussion. That kind of mistake will make you the topic of water cooler discussion and not the good kind.
Do I follow-up? Absolutely. Oftentimes I’ll begin while the meeting is still in progress and send the note within half an hour of the meeting end time. If the follow-up requires more time, I send a note informing the attendees. That’s right. I manage expectations.
Like a boss.
Leave a CommentOne of my favorite shows right now is Girls on HBO. It’s about twentysomethings in New York City. The dialogue is sharp and the story lines are astute, but really every episode could consist of all the characters yelling, “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!” at each other, and the show would be equally astute. My twenties weren’t as dramatic as theirs is, and fortunately my love life wasn’t as complicated, but the perpetual state of frustrated confusion was certainly there.
As I close the door on my twenties, I’m still unclear on what I am supposed to be doing, but I am a little more comfortable with the tenuous state of affairs because lots of people still don’t know either.
Leave a CommentToday I threw caution to the wind and put two items of clothing in the dryer. The instructions advised line drying.
What inspired such reckless behavior, you wonder. Well let me tell you.
The two items of clothing were “lounge wear.” So they were casual attire. I never fathomed that clothes designed for comfort or exercise would have finicky washing instructions. And today when I was doing laundry and saw the label, I was at first flabbergasted.
“Line dry?! Cool iron if needed?! You are a hoody!”
Then I stared at the hoody. “Why stop there? Why not dry clean only, your highness?”
So I gave it some further thought: if these lounge clothes could not sustain a journey through the dryer, they had no place in my wardrobe which is already too full of high maintenance clothes. I debated returning them to the store. Then I had an inspired idea: I would put the clothing through a trial by ordeal. The Gods would determine their true merit.
I washed them with like colors, and then when the time came, I put them both into the dryer on tumble dry. But that didn’t dry anything. So then I added time and changed the temperature to medium heat. When the wash was done, I would know whether they could be a part of my closet team.
They both shrunk. So, the moral of this story is to check washing instructions before buying an item of clothing.
Leave a CommentI was a little surprised by how affected I was by the Downton Abbey season 3 finale. I actually called Mummy this morning and shrieked, “Don’t bother watching that series Mummy! It will win your heart and then shatter it into pieces! It can only bring unhappiness!”
Fortunately a little Internet research helped explain why the writers did what they did. The Internet also helped me remember that the characters of Downton Abbey are fictional. So, you can’t control my emotions anymore, Downton Abbey. I’m rebuilding my emotional fortress so that never again will a television show so masterfully manipulate me into loving it. Never. Again.
Leave a CommentFact: I love The Lord of the Rings.
Suspicion: Legolas is interested in my Recent Comments section.
Leave a CommentI am not looking forward to the year 2013. The number itself doesn’t bode well, and perhaps that’s why the Mayans predicted 2012 would be the end: 2013 is just such an unpleasant number. Conversely, I was really excited about the year 2007, because 2007 is such a beautiful sounding number.
Two thousand seven, the name rhymes with heaven.
Twenty thirteen, ugh, it rhymes with obscene.
You’re going to have to prove yourself 2013. You’re going to have to earn our affections.
Leave a CommentHello my dearest. I have returned from Paris, a city that lights up in the winter so brightly and beautifully that you forget how little you’ve accomplished with all the opportunities you’ve been given. “Wow, that sentence didn’t end the way I expected it to,” you think. Yes, me neither. We’ll have to explore that professional despair later though, because right now we need to discuss the wonderful fashion trend we found in Paris: Elbow patches.
Elbow patches instantly make every shirt, cardigan, and blazer outstanding. Take this hoody for example. It’s okay. Nice cut.
Now take a look at this. Boom.
You see me and you think, “Wow. Just wow. This woman is obviously an intellectual. She is that rare mix of culturally informed and socially accessible. I’m not quite sure how I know, but I do.”
If you hadn’t read this entry, you wouldn’t understand what is triggering this astute observation, but you would feel it in your heart. And then, then you would think, “I want to be her friend.” That is the power of elbow patches.
Fortunately I had the good sense to purchase not one, but two shirts with elbow patches, during my travels. I immediately put them into my ensemble rotation, and it’s only a matter of time before I am the sartorial envy of all my friends.
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