What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Item! And everything!
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Ha. It really is Wednesday this time. Not even faking it.
Though I do find it extremely reassuring that I can channel the essence of Wednesday pretty much whenever I want, just by Itemizing.
Item! Post No. 42 in a series that might possibly be tangentially related to … life, the universe and everything. We’ll see. 42!
Item! Paint your walls with ideas.
Mark turned me on to this.
I want.
I mean, look at it.
He’s @MarkHeartOfBiz on Twitter.
Item! People horrified to say what they actually do.
Speaking as someone who dreads being asked what she does*, it was just wonderful to read this perfect, perfect Onion piece about that very thing happening to someone who does something way more depressing than what I do.
Except when it’s way worse funnier when it what people do is incredibly depressing and somehow they’ve never realized that.
“Increasingly Horrified Man Listens To Self Explain What He Does For A Living”
It’s incredibly sad and hysterically funny.
* Oof. Why does it matter what I do? I make a very good living doing it and it involves a duck. I refuse to say anymore!
Item! This is a classy About page.
It’s hard not to like someone whose surname is Lightheart.
Andrew is great.
And his new about page? Even better. Also he wrote a post about chipmunks thinking he’s fat.
“I’m not an expert. I do however have a deep interest in conflict and crisis and how we deal with it, and how we can not be controlled by our biology and our programming and stuff.
I’m just some guy in a t-shirt with a cat who spends his days teaching presentation skills (in a suit, without the cat) but who hopefully will come up with some useful stuff as things go on.”
Love. It.
He’s @alightheart on Twitter. Of course he is!
Item! A Gladwellian moment of fabulousness.
Huge Malcolm Gladwell fan, obviously.
This Vanity Fair parody piece is the best thing in the entire world.
“On every accepted level, Santa Claus is a total loser.
Yet this is a man who heads up a brand that commands 98 percent global recognition. Furthermore, he is universally adored.”
Thank you, Twitter. I wish I remember who pointed me here.
Item! Wonderful things to say (or not) at Thanksgiving.
A sweet, pretty post from Lydia at the Clueless Crafter blog with excellent quotes from Elsa Maxwell on the Art of Lively Entertaining.
“I make enemies deliberately. They are the sauce piquante to my dish of life.”
Also, Lydia wishes you a supreme gustatory gathering. If that doesn’t make you happy, I don’t know what will.
She’s @cluelesscrafter on Twitter.
Item! The world’s first live mashup rock band!
Just look at them.
That picture makes me way too happy.
So yes. The world’s first live mashup rock band.
Of course, I’m dying to say … it’s just one guy. But yeah, not true. So I’ll wait until Friday to say that.
Heard about this from one of my hugest Twitter-crushes who is the ever-fabulous @sfslim.
Item! So you’re probably wondering who my Twitter addictions are.
That’s why I made a list.
There’s lots of people I follow. Lots of people I madly adore. These are the ones I’d have to take with me to the desert island, if you could bring Twitter to a desert island. Please say that’s possible.
Come on in, boys and girls. The water is fine. I’m @havi and I’ll buy you a drink. Made out of a kazoo.
Item! Writers deserve to get paid, people.
Ever since hearing Barbara Sher‘s excellent rant about how your message is really anything that makes you raise your voice, I have been paying attention.
And this bit from Harlan Ellison is a Message with a Capital-M. That’s some quality upset-ness. And quality conviction.
It’s a controversial topic. And he’s not even slightly apologetic about where he stands on it.
And I think that is marvelous.
Go take three glorious minutes to watch it and cheer. Because that is a man who believes in something and needs you to know about it.
Found this via the excellent (but extremely private) @harlemwriter on Twitter. Tell him I said he’s cool.
Item! Are you in San Francisco and do you have a thing?
Robert Friedman teaches occasional classes at the SBA on “branding”.
This is something I thought was really, really gross until I took one of his classes, about three years ago.
Okay, I still think the word is gross, but I got a lot of good stuff. And perspective.
More specifically, I went in there thinking ew ew ew, and came out thinking that my business can be fabulous and sexy. Big turning point.
Plus that was where I met my friend Lisa, which, as I keep telling you guys, is the best reason to go to retreats and take classes and stuff.*
*Not because you’ll meet my friend Lisa, but because you will make life-changingly great connections.
Anyway, Robert is teaching his Build a Strong Consulting Brand class on December 1st at the San Francisco SBA and it doesn’t cost anything.
If you’re doing anything small-business-ey or vaguely entrepreneurial in the Bay Area, do it. Go!
Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!
The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.
Why you can totally dislike Dance of Shiva and still be one of my Right People.
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Something fun to do while not doing Thanksgiving tomorrow.
My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and I will interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible for me.
Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow. It’s American Thanksgiving, so Selma and I will be doing our (now annual) List Of Things That Don’t Completely Suck. Good times.
The lost art of not jumping.
In which a stuckness shows up and doesn’t want to do the thing it thinks I want it to do.
I was having an uh oh moment about my New Big Thing. And called Hiro to ramble incoherently about the stuckness.
Me: It’s like I don’t want to put it out in the world yet. I love it. It’s beautiful. And there is something there that is just… not ready.
Hiro: You mean Biggification 2010?
Me: Uh huh. And even my schedule for the year, which is part of that.
Hiro: If you’re looking at your New Big Thing, where is it?
Me (in my head): How would I possibly know that?
Pause.
Me: Oh. It’s standing on a diving board, over a pool.
Hiro: Good.
Me: And it really, really, really does not want to jump. And I’m not going to make it jump because ohmygod look how much it doesn’t want to jump.
In which I get to marvel — again — at the power of giving something permission to be the way it is.
Hiro: How old is it?
Me (sounding extremely sure of myself, which weirds me out again): Seven.
Hiro: Who says it has to jump?
Me: I don’t know. It’s right there on the diving board.
Hiro: Does it even want to be in the water?
Me: Oh, it definitely wants to be in the water. It just doesn’t want to have to jump in order to get in there.
It wants to be in the water. It just doesn’t want to have to jump in order to get in there.
Hiro: Good.
Me: Oh. Of course. It doesn’t have to jump.
In which we find out what this thing needs.
Hiro: You’re right, it definitely doesn’t have to jump. So what would be the easiest, simplest, most comfortable way for it to find its way into the water? A ramp? Does it want to be floated in?
Me: Stairs. But not a cold, metal ladder. Big, wide stairs.
Hiro: Into the shallow end?
Me: Sure. It doesn’t even really matter. It loves being in water. Just not jumping. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.
Hiro: What else does it need? Friends in the water who are waiting for it?
Me: I don’t know. What if the friends … what if they don’t think jumping from a diving board is such a big deal?
Hiro: Oh, definitely only friends who also hate jumping.
Me: Oh good. Okay. Friends. Who hate jumping. I love it.
Hiro: What else is going to help it feel safe and supported? Water wings?
Me: No, I don’t think so. But knowing that they’re there could be good. Or a board or something that it doesn’t have to use. Just as an option.
Hiro: Okay!
In which we find out what I need.
Hiro: And where are you in relation to your thing? Are you in the water? At the pool? Observing?
Me: I’m there, but I’m not. I’m in my own pool. It’s darker, warmer, higher up, quieter.
Hiro: And how are these pools connected?
Me: Through a current. It’s humming.
Hiro: So you can communicate with the other pool?
Me: I think so.
Hiro (giggling): Like, you yell “Helloooooooooooo there? How are you doing over there in your poooooooooooool?”
Me: Exactly! Just like that.
Hiro: What is your role in this space?
Me: To enjoy it. To enjoy the things that come from it. To practice the sovereignty thing. To give myself permission to be playful and ridiculous, instead of having to be mature all the time and do the right thing, whatever I think that is.
In which things turn silly.
Oh yes.
There was a kooky magical non-even-slightly-cheesy waterfall.
We threw a fabulous birthday party for my New Big Thing where there were insanely great presents.
Like a water tricycle. And a slackline. And floating lanterns. And pool noodles! Lots and lots of pool noodles!
Hiro said all sorts of wise, insightful, weird, hilarious things that were all completely compassionate and non-judge-ey. No big surprise there. She’s wonderful.
She talked about grace, rhythm, timing and flow. About possibility. And spaciousness. And ease.
And I got to give my New Big Thing reassurance that things don’t have to be forced. That things can happen with this quality of ease.*
We talked about snowflakes and doors. And all sorts of other things that don’t have to do with jumping.
* Usually I have crazy resistance to this concept — my instinctive reaction is: “Ease? Jews don’t do that!” But for some reason I found it really comforting this time.
In which I internalize a bunch of stuff I thought I already knew.
It’s amazing how good it feels to have permission to not do things the painful way.
But permission is something that is so much easier to give to someone else. Or, at least, that’s my experience.
And sometimes other people think that the best thing for us is doing something the hurting way, and so they force something painful. They think it’s for our own good. And then we turn around and do it to ourselves.
Which is so completely tragic that I don’t even know what to say.
I’ve also learned this:
The thing I’ve created for this coming year is sometimes a seven year old who knows a lot about a lot.
Its best qualities come out when it has permission to do things its own way. It’s happy. It has a sweet, playful, goofy spirit and a fierce power all its own.
And my commitment is to love it.
To care for it. To give it room. To appreciate how cool it is. To take away shoulds. To give it permission to have fear. To give it permission to need stuff.
To not have to do anything the conventional way.
And to do all that for myself too. When I can.
Comment zen for today.
So I know some of you have great stories about how someone forced you to jump and it really was all for the best and you totally conquered your fear and yay.
I really do recognize the power of those stories, and that they need to be heard — and this moment of today and now and here is not their time.
Today is about permission to take something intimidating and not have to do it that way. It’s about the sovereignty thing that happens when you choose not to do things the hard way.
It’s about finding comfort and support when you need it, and having permission to want and need those qualities in your life.
Because we’re creating an environment that includes, among many other (sometimes contradictory) things, permission not to have to jump — and that’s where we are.
Red velvet ropes in all the right places.
Rowr.
Well, you just can’t talk biggification without getting into the whole red velvet rope thing.
Because growing your thing (the thing!) in a mindful way without burning yourself out means … having boundaries.
And making them sexy.
But first, I need to explain a bunch of stuff.
Red velvet ropery: what is it?
The red velvet rope is a concept I borrowed from Michael Port.
For me, it’s about distinctions and healthy boundaries.
And really, it includes anything you say or do that results in making your Right People feel welcome, while helping your non-right-people understand that their thing is … somewhere else.
Wheee! Let’s have an example.
Okay. Selma?
She’s the best red velvet rope in the entire world.
I have a duck. I am a biggified blah blah expert whose business partner is a duck.
People who get it and think it’s cool are totally in.
People who think it’s stupid, or suspect that she’s — ewwwwwwwwwww — some kind of marketing ploy, are out. But not because I have to ask them to leave or anything. They just self-select out. They don’t stick.
Having red-velvet-rope Selma around (and let’s be honest, I don’t do anything without her) turns out to be a great way to help people find their way in or out.
Here’s another one.
As everyone knows, I’m having a totally-not-secret secret love affair with Naomi. And one of her red velvet ropes is that she curses like a sailor.
She is a fabulous potty-mouth.
People who don’t dig that leave. Fast. But people who think it’s hysterical to read smart, foul-mouthed business advice will read anything she writes.
Sure, she’s also smart, funny and really, really sweet. And knows what she’s talking about.
But to be in, you have to choose to be in.
Naomi and I aren’t marching around saying “you get in if you’re like this and this” or “go away if you aren’t blah blah blah“.
Because we don’t have to.
So: is the red velvet rope the best metaphor in the world?
Meh. It has some problematic bits.
On the one hand, the red velvet rope thing contains all kinds of good elements. Like these:
[+ boundary] [+ sexy] [+ value] [+ self-selecting]
But it also has some problematic stowaways*. Like [+ divisive] [+ snobby]
We definitely don’t want our red velvet ropiness to be obnoxious.
*“Stowaways” are a Suzette Haden Elgin concept — read her book The Last Word on the Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defense for more on what I’m talking about here.
The most common misconception.
It’s easy to make the mistake of thinking a red velvet rope will make you come across as diva-ey or a total snob — that’s it’s about saying haha I’m in and you’re not.
But that’s not it.
It is about distinctions, but again — in a positive way.
Your red velvet rope is about showing your Right People that you have a place for them, and making them welcome.
The keeping-out part of the distinction is also useful — for keeping out the shoe-throwers and general asshats.
But ideally, the intention of the rope thing is to wave enthusiastically (hi!) to your Right People, to help them see that this is somewhere they can feel at home.
Don’t do this.
The boring way that people try to apply this is by (yawn) having a niche or talking to a “target market”.
So yeah, technically speaking … saying that you only work with “former journalists between the ages of 45 and 60 who live in the greater Chicago area” is a red velvet rope.
But it’s a stupid rope — the kind that doesn’t necessarily fit your Right People. I mean, what if I’m 37 and in Sheboygan but we would totally hit it off? Or what if I’m exactly in that group you described but we don’t madly adore each other? Not interesting. Not useful.
No, a good red velvet rope is something that gives the kind of people you like being around that tingly feeling of “oooh, oooh, oooh, this is for me!”
More about the ropes.
If it’s on your dammit list, it’s a red velvet rope.
For example, I don’t put gushy testimonials on my “hey, I’m doing a retreat” pages, dammit.
Not because I don’t have any. Anyone who has been to one of my live programs will say that this is a not-to-be-missed experience that makes everything in your life better.
It’s because I’m not interested in making some big market-ey point of telling people how great it’s going to be. I don’t want to push it or sell it or make a huge deal out of it.
I really want only the people who already suspect how great it’s going to be.
This means that a lot of people are going to self-select out. They want me to convince them, and I’m just not going to. And that’s fine.
My red velvet rope in this particular situation is you only get in if you’re someone who already gets it.
For a different kind of program I might have a different red velvet rope. But for retreats? The convincing-ey thing is not going to happen.
Taking the red velvet rope thing to somewhere slightly more extreme.
I’ve been playing with this a lot. Experimenting.
And for my Next Big Thing (which, by the way, has a name — it’s called Biggification 2010), there is mad red-velvet-ropery going on.
It will be the hardest to get into of any program I’ve ever done. There will be prerequisites and an application and phone interviews.
This is not to be bitchy and mean. It’s to be supportive of my Right People and to have super-clear boundaries.
More importantly, I won’t be doing anything to try to get people in. I will welcome the ones who are in, but I’m sure as hell not making it easy on people.
More about being inclusive.
There are different levels of Right People.
So not everything you do is going to speak to all of your Right People.
Someone can like me and not be a Shivanaut, and still be a Right Person.*
*Though if you show up at a Retreat? We’ll be shiva-ing it up and then we will laugh about how horrible it is … together!
Some people are going to be right there in the inner circle of Right-People-ness, and some people are going to be out around the edges.
Still right. Still a great fit. Just not the absolute most-PERFECTLY-right-ever overlap. There’s room for so many kinds of Right People within the bigger orbit of Mostly Right People.
But either way, here’s the important part:
Having boundaries and distinctions doesn’t need to be about being a diva. It’s about being clear on what you want and need.
It’s about being clear on what will support and sustain you as you bring your thing into the world.
Yeah.
Ahhhh. Now we’re at the core thing. Support.
You want your thing (your business, your poetry, your dancing, whatever it is) to get to the people who need it, even if you don’t know who they are yet.
You want your thing to go out into the world and do what it needs to do.
And that means that you and your thing need support.
You need to feel safe, supported and loved so that your thing can be sustainable. So that you don’t end up in emotional-breakdown land.
If you’re not taking steps to make sure that what you’re doing supports you (whether that’s financially or emotionally or spiritually or any possible combination of ways), it’s going to hurt.
Red velvet ropes are one more important piece of that support system. They exist to support you, so that you can keep doing your thing.
And that is huge.
Comment zen for today …
Stupid biggification! It’s hard and scary and brings up all of our stuff. Sorry about that.
Luckily, this concept is something you get to play with and make work for you. And if it doesn’t work for you, you have my permission to toss it.
EDIT! I can’t believe I forgot to mention this, but yes. All this red velvet rope stuff (and the Right People concept) is not just for biggification. It holds for relationships, friends, dating, work … really, anything that involves interacting with the outside world.
Very Personal Ads #21: this table is not even slightly vain.
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do it.
Thing 1: Right People for my Destuckification Retreat.
Here’s what I want:
This is a weird one.
I haven’t told anyone about this yet, because I need to tell the secret list first.
And I feel bad not telling the secret list, because the entire reason it exists is because my programs will sell out in a day or two, and then people miss out.
Of course, if I tell my list, then the program will sell out anyway before I can even announce its existence.
So yes. I feel conflicted.
But either way, people will find out about it this week. They can go to the events page and mark off the dates and drool over how fabulous it’s going to be.
They can sign up for the secret list while they’re there. Or not.
Ways this could work:
Everyone who has been on a retreat/workshop/afternoon-thing with me and knows how crazy-wonderful it is can remember the way it changes everything. For the better.
The excitement can build. The people who need this can find their way to it.
Everything can happen in the right time. Or in good timing. Or I can remember that there is time.
That would be good.
My commitment.
To trust the weird, wonderful process that is retreating.
To hunker down and get the last details taken care of.
To ask for help when I need it.
To remember how much support I have in what I do, even when I go into my completely forgetting that there’s support pattern.
To have fun with it.
Thing 2: A vanity table.
Here’s what I want:
There is this funny tiny little room (not a closet but maybe a roomlet?) off of the bathroom in Hoppy House.
And it is completely empty.
My joke has always been that it’s where the vanity table should go but since I am extremely low maintenance and it takes me all of two minutes to get ready … that would be silly.
However, it is no longer silly.
Because I discovered on my North Carolina trip that if you sit down to get dolled up (even if the dolling only takes 45 seconds), it’s easier.
Plus I just want it. So that’s it.
I want a retro vanity table for the weird little room within the bathroom. It has little cubbies or cabinet-ey things and a gorgeous mirror. And a seat.
Here’s how this could work:
Craigslist.
Magic.
Someone could make a recommendation, have the right one, know of the right one.
It could find me.
I could do some sort of Ikea hack, which would be awesome.
My commitment.
To get used to this idea of me-having-a-vanity-table. Me! What?!
To stop getting hung up on the idea that it means I’m vain, even though it has the word vanity right in it. Clearly it’s referring to the table and not to me.
I know that.
To stop being so insane. Okay, I can’t promise that. But I’m working on it. Kind of.
Thing 3: Support for the Blonde Chicken!
Here’s what’s going on:
You all know about Tara the Blonde Chicken because I write about her all the time.
She’s also someone who has had mad biggification successes this year thanks to the Kitchen Table program.*
We’ve watched her go from “eek, I could never leave my job but would love to in a few years” to doing it, and turning her thing into a full-time fabulous business.
And in one of our post-teleclass chatroom goofball extravaganzas, everyone was bugging Tara about how she should be teaching them to knit.
Because we love love love her gorgeous yarn, and don’t know what to do with it.
And since she wasn’t about to fly to Australia or Scotland or wherever to actually show them how to knit, they talked her into making a kit. And planned the whole thing. Together.
Tara says:
“Whenever I’ve gotten stuck (what pattern should I include?) or needed encouragement (I just don’t feel like it!), I’ve gone to the Table and the Table has supported me completely.
“I would never have ventured into this project without the Table and I am so clear that this is the right thing for my right people and for my business! Yay!”
Yay indeed. And now her Learn to Knit Kit exists. And she wants it to find its right people.
*For the record. Normally I would never out a Kitchener, because we are huge on confidentiality — in this case Tara specifically told me that she was cool with me talking about this.
Ways this could work.
This is possibly the best holiday gift in the entire world.
And I know there are a lot of people who want to be knitting fansocks for me and scarves for Selma …
So I’m going to make a wish for seed-planting. For all the right people to find her kit and to connect other right people with it too. Because this deserves to thrive.
My commitment.
To express how joyful I am to see someone doing her thing in this really beautiful way.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Last week I asked for rest and recovery after the exhausting-but-fabulous Barbara Sher retreat.
I got some. Not enough. But the transition is working. And I’m doing my best to pay attention to what I need and when I need it. More please!
I asked for help with a conversation I didn’t want to have that I was really upset about. I didn’t have the conversation. But I did take care of business. And I wrote a hard letter. And I found a new bookkeeper.
So all that is huge progress related to the uncomfortable thing.
And I asked for a group of Right People for the second year of my Kitchen Table program. There are now over eighty people just on the waiting list.
I might need a waiting list for the waiting list. It’s insane. So. Very happy about that, and will be making progress on the applications soon! Hooray.
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments. And that way, if you feel like leaving one (you totally don’t have to), you get to be part of this experiment too. 🙂
Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):
- Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
What I would rather not have:
- Reality theories.
- Shoulds. As in, “You should be doing it like this” or “That’s not the right way to ask for things — instead it should be like x, y and z”
- To be judged or psychoanalyzed.
My commitment.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird. I commit to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and to interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible.
Thanks for doing this with me!
Friday Chicken #68: those robot crustaceans, eh?
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
Ayyyyiiiiiii. What a week.
Thank Goodness It’s The Chicken.
Let’s do it!
The hard stuff
Uncomfortable conversations.
And putting them off.
One of them I’d been wanting to have for months, but have been so upset about it and couldn’t find a way to have a non-upset conversation.
After all that time hoping I’d be able to find the right way to do it, I decided to just go ahead and have the really upset conversation.
And then I decided I was too upset to do it.
Ending relationships.
Some of this was really hard/sad because I didn’t want something to end.
And some of it was hard/sad because I have no idea what took me so long.
Inner turmoil related to conversations and relationships not working.
I spent most of Sunday night crying instead of sleeping.
Really crappy.
Blah blah, transition.
This is really practically a permanent Friday Chicken item at this point, so you’d think I’d get used to everything being in transition all the damn time but no. Still sucks, thank you very much.
It’s not so much the changes I mind (since the way I play business is very much about innovation and form-shifting), but the repositioning that takes place after the changes.
I let about half my staff go this week, which is an important part of the latest transition, and it was really, really hard for everyone involved.
I’ve known for a long time that I need the pirate ship to be way more streamlined, but it’s been hard for me to do.
Very painful. Very uncomfortable. Totally the right thing, but not fun.
Scary pattern.
A year ago I did a stupid, not-thinking, messed up thing. A mistake.
And then yesterday (a year — to the day, almost to the hour), the same mistake. Exactly the same mistake.
Nothing is hurt but my pride, thank goodness. And it didn’t involve anyone but me. But it was still weird and freaky, and started messing with my head.
The gentleman friend being worried about things.
This transition stuff is taking its toll. And when he worries, I worry. And this is not a good time for me to be worried.
Dancing class getting way too hard.
I keep missing classes because of all the mad traveling.
And then the catching-up is so not working. Feeling stupid and uncoordinated. I know, that’s supposed to be something I’m good at. But it’s still painful.
The good stuff
Presents!
Just when I was feeling most miserable and sleep-deprived and not-able-to-stop-crying, presents!
An especially marvelous Pirate Queen necklace (with a duck — can you believe it?) from Insane Jellyfish???
And an assistant for Selma from Romilly (Romilly-who-made-me-socks).
It was excellent up-cheering, and right on time.
The Communicatrix!
Colleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Came for a visit!
And so we got to a. spend time with one of my favorite biscuit-ey people and b. turn the study into a guest room. Totally worked.
Plus it was half an answer to a Very Personal Ad she wrote a few weeks ago. How about that?
I rewrote a page that was bugging me.
Have been meaning to redo a lot of stuff on the Shiva Nata site, especially now that we’re sponsoring Roller Derby!
And not getting around to it. Blech.
So this week I just kind of casually rewrote the main page, and it feels so much better. Whew.
Hiro.
Since I spent half the week out-flipping over all these Things Going Wrong, I needed help.
And Hiro was so sweet and reassuring … and managed to sneak in emergency sessions for me and just be a good friend and a smart destuckifier.
I feel so supported and cared for and loved. It’s really great.
My favorite thing.
Every once in a while I throw an Ask Havi Anything call at the Kitchen Table.
These are so much fun.
You wouldn’t believe the stuff people ask. But it’s all extremely entertaining. And useful. And I surprise myself with occasional accidental smartnesses.
Not needing to promote things.
Thank god, because I hate promoting things and refuse to do it, dammit.
I was really getting worried that I’d have to talk up my Kitchen Table program to get the right people to sign up for next year.
But most people there are staying. And there were seventy people on the freaking waiting list before I even got around to thinking about how I would promote it if I had to.
Whew.
And … playing live at the meme beach house!
Yes, that’s a Stuism too.
My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”
And the fake band of the week is:
Pimping Robot Crustaceans.
I got this from Melle who is @melle on Twitter, and I don’t think context can help this one.
But I can definitely assure you that it’s … just one guy.
And … STUISMS of the week. They’re back.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
- “aiming timing charming” of instead of timing timing timing
- “productivity is groovy you people” instead of productivity guru-ey people
- “Denver Brie assurances” instead of time for reassurances
- “arresting the entire herald” instead of the best thing in the entire world
- “Oh Bosnia curried fabulousness” instead of allows me to curate fabulousness
- “think batsmen grumble parable books I’ve fetch testicle and are” instead of CrankyPants McGrumbleBug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar
- “pimping your rubble to stress stations” instead of pimping robot crustaceans
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.