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.

Blogging therapy: What if someone READS what I wrote?

We’re at number nine in our weekly series that focuses on ways to make blogging (and other things) seem a little less intimidating.

(If you don’t blog and don’t plan to, you can use this “working-on-your-stucknesses” approach for whatever else that’s feeling a bit scary.)

The other posts in the series, just so you have them. No pressure!
Part 1. What if people are mean to me?
Part 2. What if I throw a party and no one shows up?
Part 3. Why even bother when there are already other people doing it better?
Part 4. What do I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?
Part 5. Help! Perfectionism! Gaaaaak!
Part 6. But I’m not an EXPERT!
Part 7. Don’t make me be vulnerable!
Part 8. I just don’t have the time!

Whoah. Change of plans!

Yes, we were planning on talking today about “how to get in the zone”.

We’re going to postpone that for a while. Turns out I was way jumping the gun, as evidenced by all the email I’ve been getting listing all sorts of additional reasons for not even getting started.

So before “getting in the zone” even becomes an issue, I want to give some more attention to some of the things that are keeping us from being able to put something out there to the world.

Or whatever, not even necessarily to the world — maybe only to a few people. This particular fear is in direct opposition to what if I throw a party and no one shows up.

And this fear says that it could be dangerous for people to read what we write. That we need to stay hidden to stay safe.

Scary, right? And if this is your fear, this is what’s true for you right now. So we want to give that some love.

What we’re going to do is look at two different people who are dealing with this “Agh! Don’t look at me!” thing, and see what we might be able to do with it.

Two people. At least two different fears.

Issue #1: Fear of being found (anonymity and how to keep it).

This issue probably isn’t that surprising, especially given yesterday’s post about writing, healing and abuse.

A lot of us have stuff to say — stuff to put out there — and we know that reading it might help other people. But we may also have very good reasons for not wanting to be found out.

Like this person who wrote to me a couple of weeks ago:

“I am so terrified of losing my anonymity that I have to give myself a pep talk before I post. If I do post.

I’m a recovering addict who relapsed last year, and in the process of re-recovering I started dating another addict whose recovery is a little more unstable than my own. And only a couple people know I relapsed in the first place.

And other privacy issues that I won’t get into here. I don’t know if I’m supposed to get over my issues, or if I’m supposed to do extra stuff to secure my anonymity in blogland. If you have time, you can be the 2nd person on planet earth to see my blog, but please don’t share it.

Okay, I did read this person’s blog. And I thought it was terrific. Poignant and powerful.

I also think a lot of people might really identify with it or find it reassuring to know that they’re not alone. Or just appreciate the perspective.

At the same time, I get that you would be feeling vulnerable and anxious at the thought that someone could find this, and what the possible repercussions might be.

Obviously the technical stuff is not really my area.

I mean, yes, you could password protect your blog.

You can also make sure when you register your domain that you’ve paid extra to have a hidden or secure WHOIS set-up so that people can’t find out who you are.

More than that, I don’t really know what to do to secure anonymity. I’d ask someone like Nathan Bowers. Heck, even the Google Gods. They can tell you way more about this stuff than I ever could.

My thoughts …

The fact that you’re asking me though … that suggests to me that your question isn’t really a technical one at all, and that it’s probably more about the fear.

Not so much the fear of being discovered as the disconnect between the part of you that wants people to read this, and the part of you that is afraid of being judged or pushed away.

You want people to read it because it could be useful for them in so many ways. And because these other people are a reminder that you’re not alone in your pain.

It’s about connection. And intimacy. And fear.

It’s always about fear. Anonymity, specifically, is about the deep need that we all have to feel safe. Hiding is one of the ways we create that sense of safety.

Blogging about the process of learning about your fears and meeting your fears — even under complete anonymity — is a strong way to explore coming out of that hiding and creating something new.

I don’t mean to imply that hiding isn’t legitimate. There are times when hibernating and cocoon-ing away from the world is absolutely part of what you need to do to take care of yourself. It’s part of the healing process (insert your own less cheesy phrase here) and all that.

But hiding isn’t the only way.

I’d say more about that, but the next example kind of makes my point for me. This one is more about the fear but still kind of about the anonymity thing.

Issue #2: Fear of being seen (protection)

A woman named Rachael wrote this in the comments recently:

“… Fears: 1) that a current or future employer discovers my blog and it hurts my career and/or 2) some creep engages in cyberstalking or otherwise invades my privacy through the information I put in a blog because I was too vulnerable.

I’m not talking about someone who makes insensitive comments, but more than that. Now, as I write this, I see how silly it is to let these fears stop me. But I thought I’d bring up for the sake of discussion, nonetheless.”

Yes. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is something that every blogger deals with, at least at the beginning.

When I launched this website three years ago, I was scared of everything. Scared to put up a picture or a phone number on the site or a gazillion other things.

Also, I apologized profusely (and to anyone who would listen) for being a corporate whore and a pathetic sell-out who was disgusting enough to have a website. Oh, it was charming being around me.

So yes, this is normal.

My suggestions …

Go ahead and take whatever precautions you need to help yourself feel safe, and then — from within that safe place — you might feel better about experimenting a little.  Just see how it feels. 

See what it’s like to build a community of friends and people who care about you, and maybe your safety level will change. In fact, your perception of comfort may change, as you begin to recognize the support systems you’re building.

But whether one person or a thousand are reading your words, this is really all about you creating space for yourself. The blog is a way for you to build that container where this work happens.

So each post — whoever the audience — is an exercise.

You build a small, safe place for yourself to feel loved and supported, and then you work on gradually expanding the walls. That’s what all self-work is about anyway, when you get right down to it, right?

You’re applying gentle, conscious pressure to those walls to see what it will feel like if you move them a couple inches.

If it’s too much, you’ll retreat again. You’ll delete a post or two. You’ll regroup. You’ll check in.

And then you’ll try again.

But the question is not “How much can I push?”. Because we’re not trying to drag you out of your comfort zone or anything. Heaven forbid.

The question is this:

How can I get better at creating a safe, comfortable, supportive space for myself? How can I help myself feel safe while still making room for creative self-expression and stuff like that?

And as you practice this whole “hi, this is me being a real live human being” thing, you’ll get better at figuring out what helps you feel safe as opposed to what challenges that sense of safety.

One more point.

Something else that really helps with this whole “feeling safe and getting comfortable” thing: readers.

If you write like yourself you will inevitably attract people who get it.*

*And if you don’t attract people who get it, you’re not spending enough time on Twitter!

Look at Amy’s blog. Look at Steph’s blog.

The people who hang out there are, for the most part, reflecting back the personal style of the writers. These blogs are cozy, comfortable places to be.

Or this blog. It tends to speak to people who are sweet, thoughtful and insightful with some bonus eccentric goofball qualities. Oh, and more specifically, people like that who are interested in working on their stuff.

Also, they like to read. 🙂

So if you’re out there, actively practicing being yourself — and letting yourself feel safe and supported while doing so — you’re going to end up with some great people cheering you on.

As for potential employers … well, I’ll let Andy Wibbels’ short and elegant post entitled Bastard speak to that one.

Let’s stop here.

It really is about practicing. So go at your own speed. Take your time. Remember that blogging is really just therapy that you don’t have to pay for.

And find ways to make it a little playful.

If the only thing that comes out of this is that you decide you want to work on feeling safe and supported in various parts of your life, then yay. The blogging can wait.

If you’ve got non-blogging ways try to help yourself feel safe and supported so that you can work on your stuff, rock on. It’s not the method — it’s the patterns that are important.

Tomorrow: goofiness.
Next week: more blogging therapy.
Mwah!

A difficult question and a difficult answer

I got an anonymous letter.

I’m going to share it with you.

Here it is.

I saw the very touching letter in your most recent Ask Havi post and my stomach twisted up. And I decided, what the hell, I’ll write you and Selma.

I read all your blog posts and love the depth that you bring to emotional things without losing your grip on reality.

There’s a book I need to write, or at least, people keep telling me that others need to read it [funny, huh?].

But I haven’t done it yet because I feel like I don’t have the right to write about what happened to me. I was systematically abused for 10 years and nothing was done about it, to make it short.

And I keep being told I need to write about all this, so that others know they’re not the only one’s who’ve been tortured. So that others don’t feel alone, and don’t feel like they need to punish or kill themselves because someone else was a monster to them.

But I… still feel controlled by the fear that those people left in me. And it leaves me feeling that I don’t have the right to write about my own pain.

And more still, if I write this bloody book I want it to be anonymous, as much as possible, because I don’t want those horrible people to track me down. I know them, and I know that they would call me and show up at my door, and hound me to rescind the things I said, but I can’t — because they’re true. I can’t erase those actions and they can’t erase my memories.

Reality doesn’t work that way.

So my ‘ask’ for you and the eminent Selma, is how do I get permission to write this book?

I don’t even know where the permission should be from, I just know that this needs to come out of me and be used to help someone else, because I can’t think of any other way for all the energy of those terrible things to be used in a positive way.

I’m sorry for the urgent plea tone of this e-mail, I’ve been wrestling with this situation for a little over 20 years and it’s eating at me more and more lately. I’ve thought about writing the two of you about this before, but always chickened out because I know that this must all sound very panicked.

If you have any ideas where that permission might need to come from please let me know! I hate to sound desperate but that’s what I am.

All the best,
__________

p.s. Q for Selma ~ do you ever wear socks?

Let’s take a moment, yes?

Let’s all just be really quiet for this woman and sit with this.

This is a lot of pain. It’s harder for her to carry than it is for us to witness it, but it’s hard on all of us.

If you can send love and strength and support her way, then send it. And if you need those things, I’m sending them your way too.

One more deep breath. And another one. Another one.

And we will find a way to respond.

Part of what I wrote back …

Oh my dear sweet __________.

Oh my dear sweet __________.
There is so much hard. I am so sorry that you went through this awfulness. I want to sit with you and hold your hand.

For your questions …

There are a couple of points I want to make.

1. Let’s remove — if we can — as many of the “shoulds” as possible.

The idea that you have this “obligation” to write your suffering out to help others … it sounds like guilt and fear are kinda running the show.

Which is understandable, given your background.

Still, if we could take that apart a little and pull out the should-i-ness of it …

If you think that writing about this will be therapeutic for you then by all means, do it.

Or maybe writing about the process of getting ready to write about it could be therapeutic for you, in which case, yes. Try it and see if it feels comfortable for you.

You are under no obligation to start healing the world or helping other people who have suffered unless you are drawn to this as part of your own healing process.

After all you have been through, it is ludicrous that you would “have to” do anything other than focus on what you need to help you heal as best you can.

If positive stuff for someone else can emerge from your painful experience, that would be incredibly powerful. But it does not need to be the thing that motivates you unless you come to the conclusion that you truly want it to.

2. The permission thing is also a “should”.

This idea that you “have to” give yourself permission or that someone has to give it to you … this is part of the mentality that can come from a history of abuse. I recognize it because I know it personally and many of my clients do this too.

Right now you have too much fear to give yourself permission. The only place to start is to acknowledge that this fear is there and that it makes sense that it would be there.

It is natural and normal that you’re paralyzed with fear. It is the natural human response to what you’ve been put through.

Of course you’re afraid to have permission to write about this, sweetie. Let’s wait a bit until we need to get this permission. In the meantime …

3. There are always more options than what there appear to be.

Maybe right now is not the time to write the book.

Maybe right now is the time to do some journaling. That might take some of the pressure off of the whole “oh no, a book” thing.

Not to mention the anonymity thing and the safety thing. That’s a lot to deal with all at once.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be a book. Maybe it can start as some sketches or some scribbled words in a book that’s only for you.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be memories.

Maybe what you end up writing can be about this process of learning how to make your healing become the main thing in your life.

Maybe your writing can be about your process of learning how to maybe eventually feel safe and loved.

Start seeing how it feels to gently and cautiously approach some of the stuff around these memories without diving right into the pain or putting a bunch of expectations on yourself about who will read it. Then you can proceed from there.

Around these memories.

4. Going AROUND the pain. This is a very important concept.

There is this awful school of thought — very popular in Hollywood films — that holds that if we face our fear and re-live the awful things that happened to us, this will heal us.

I can barely even talk about this because it’s so wrong and so tragic and so dangerous.

It is very important to understand that there are many, many kind and gentle ways out there to dance around the pain, to do the healing at the very edge and not in the center.

You do not need to go through your pain again in order to heal. You can do the healing around it, from the periphery.

Acupuncture, acupressure, EFT, TAT, dance therapy, art therapy, yoga therapy, healers … there are so many powerful ways to work through some of our pain and soften it without plunging in and reliving the horrible.

If writing is going to be part of your healing process, try writing around the pain, not about the pain.

For example, writing about the types of things that trigger your pain. The types of things people say that set you off. Words that are troubled or problematic for you.

And then writing about places where you feel safe and supported. People whose presence helps you feel better. Smells and tastes that are comforting for you.

Find spaces where you can be in comfort after dancing around that pain.

5. We are with you.

You are not alone.

Abuse is … what can I say about it … just the most horrible thing. Ever.

There are a lot of us out in the world with painful, miserable experiences that we either remember or don’t remember … and there is a lot of pain for us to learn about. A lot of pain for us to practice letting go of.

I just want you to know that all over the internet, hurting and healing people are empathizing with you and remembering their own bits of stuck and hard.

We are all loving you and loving your beautiful heart and trying to love ourselves. We are with you.

p.s. I have never seen Selma wear socks. I don’t quite know where she’d put them, though it would be super cute.

A request for my readers …

Please nothing but kind, supportive, loving comments.

I’m writing about stuff I feel VERY strongly about. If you disagree with me, you’re more than entitled to your opinion — just keep in mind that today is not one of those days that I wish to know about it. Let’s just gather and support this woman.

Friday Check-in #17: the “you can’t make me” edition

Friday chickenBecause 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.

Won’t you?

Oh, hooray. I knew you would.

Let’s do this thing.

The hard stuff

Not having shelves yet.

It’s just part of moving. But it makes everything a little harder.

Thanksgiving.

You’re “supposed to” like it and I don’t.

Actually, I resent anything that messes with my work, my routine and my yoga practice.

I also resent most things that requires me to put on shoes.

Of course it ended up being really, really fun and I had an amazing time. And at the same time, I’m still thinking maybe next year I should just leave town.

Or admit to everyone I know that I’m an anti-social barefoot hermit and that you really, really don’t want me at your party. Hmm, would anyone believe me?

The flood of email I haven’t answered yet.

Apparently every single thing I wrote this week (except for the Item! post on Wednesday) triggered something deep in almost everyone who reads this blog — I got insane amounts of email reaction, some of which was extremely emotional.

I haven’t dealt with it yet. I’m sorry. You’re all in my thoughts. I love you all. I’m just not ready (yet) to sit down and answer these.

Not everyone is honest.

One of the crappy, challenging things this week was learning that stupid, annoying life lesson again. The one I have trouble remembering.

Anyway, apparently someone found an unlocked backdoor into one of my products and decided to pass the link around in an online forum.

Wow. That sucks. And yes, I know. I know.

I always figured, what the heck. If someone’s going to work the system, they’re going to work the system.

But now that it’s actually happened … I just feel disappointed. As in “Yeah, I knew I should have had a better lock on my bike, but I really like all the neighborhood kids who hang out in my yard.”

So I’m doing the thing I didn’t want to do and moving it all to expiring links.

Sorry, guys. I know it’s no fun to get that “you must download this right this second” message when you buy something. But this feels like something I need to do to take care of my right people.

The wrong ones shouldn’t be here anyway. Please don’t give me advice on this — I don’t want it … but if you want to give me a hug, that’s cool.

The good stuff

Michael Chabon was in Portland!

Michael Chabon! In Portland!

So my gentleman friend and I went to see him speak and it was fantastic. We’re both fans, and he’s a terrific speaker, very funny, with that wonderfully wry, twisted Jewish humor that you don’t get a lot of in the Pacific Northwest.

What was weird, though, was realizing that he and my gentleman friend are contemporaries. Michael Chabon is three years older, but he’s so obviously a total grown up.

Whereas I think of my gentleman friend as … you, know, kind of like me. A person. But not like, an adult.

It’s not like either one of them is especially mature and sensible. Nor are they especially immature or insensible.

So I don’t know what creates that distinction. Is it because Michael Chabon has four kids? Because of the Pulitzer? Because he’s on a stage and we’re in the audience?

But I digress. It was awesome. Michael Chabon! I’m assuming you’ve already read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but you really should also read The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.

Caveat: you might need someone who speaks Yiddish to explain a lot of the jokes but it’s still a good read even if you miss out on some of the subtext.

Which I probably shouldn’t have said, because I can feel the “email flood” expanding right there. Whoops.

I has a friend!

Jen Hofmann, whose life-changingly fantastic Inspired Organizing course prompted me to write the very same personal ad that drew me and Hoppy House together, made a big crazy trip to visit me.

She got the official tour of Hoppy House and oohed and aahed appropriately.

And then we spent four hours at the kitchen table drinking tea and talking about everything under the sun. I heart Jen. What a blessing.

A chunk of unpacking! Done!

I think it’s now fair to say that we are mostly unpacked.

Starting to feel like I actually live here. Hoppy House! Turning into Hoppy Home?

We shall see.

Thanksgiving.

Despite all my neuroses documented above, it was a heck of a good time.

Dana the Spicy Princess
and her charming husband “Ranch Boy” (don’t ask) are really, really fun.

Everyone there was lovely, and we all got to say things we weren’t grateful for, which is right up my alley.

And the food was out of this world. Dana made an artichoke-cheese-something-or-other that was yummy. And there were potatoes and sweet potatoes without sugar and salad dressing without sugar. And my beloved brussel sprouts.

At the three other Thanksgivings I’ve been to, being vegetarian and sugar-free pretty much ensures that the whole thing will be one, long miserable ordeal. This was great.

I’m a grownup and you can’t make me!

As some of you know, I don’t play charades. Well, I also don’t play board games.

The thing I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving:

The ability to say “Wait, I’m a grownup. You can’t make me play board games!”

You can’t make me! You can’t make me! You can’t make me!

I’m not really all that mature while standing up for my rights, but stand up for them I did. Ha! Life is good.

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.

77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck.

And some lentils.

So it’s American Thanksgiving today. Which means one of two things.

1. If you’re in the States you’re probably not even reading this because you’re out doing something that involves lots of people and even more food.

2. If you’re not in the States or you’re one of those not-very-good-at-being-American Americans like me, you’re probably sick and tired of reading Thanksgiving-related stuff online.

I apologize. Let me distract you with my lentils.

In which we play a little game.

I threatened mentioned yesterday that I was going to play my favorite Ungratitude Game today.

If you’re not clear on the concept, you can read my newsletter from last year about the worst thing about Thanksgiving.

Very briefly, what we’re doing is playing a game called 77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck. It’s fun. Each thing gets a lentil. Hey, and that’s why I’ve got this bowl of lentils here!

Havi’s list of 77 Things That Don’t Completely Suck

In no particular order …

1. Hoppy House! I love my new home.

2. Selma the duck. I love Selma the duck.

3. We’re going to visit my gentleman friend’s parents and sisters next weekend and hang out with his adorable little nephews and bring them presents!

4. That’s next weekend which means we don’t actually have to do Thanksgiving with them.

5. That means not traveling on Thanksgiving! Gott sei dank.

6. Ooh, and not sitting awkwardly through excessive amounts of religious talk.

7. We’re going to Dana’s place for Thanksgiving dinner which mean there’s going to be vegetarian food for me. This might actually be my first Thanksgiving ever (out of all three that I’ve attended) where I won’t be waiting for it to end so I can go eat something.

8. I went to the hippie store this week and picked up insane amounts of incense and now my office smells yummy.

9. Brussel sprouts!

10. Dance of Shiva. Total brain rewiring and and bonus ninja skills.

11. My brother is moving in with us next month. Since he’s pretty much my favorite person in the entire world, that is going to be the best thing ever.

12. Did you hear President-elect Obama talking about his team of super-smart economic advisers? Ohmygod. We’re going to have some seriously thoughtful, intelligent, insightful, pragmatic people running this country.

13. I have my own office now, as of last week.

14. My gentleman friend let me have carte blanche when it came to choosing which room was what in Hoppy House. That was so so so great.

15. I have been graced in my life to meet some of the most powerful teachers and healers ever:
16. My teacher Andrey Lappa.
17. The exceptional Hiro Boga.
18. My wonderful, wonderful friends Sivan Senior and Sigal Rafaeli.

19. My feet are warm.
20. Socks!

21. I have lots of great stuff to read.
22. Like Jenny the Bloggess.
23. And Black Hockey Jesus.
24. And there’s a beautiful old library branch in walking distance from Hoppy House.

25. I have the most wonderful friends in the entire world.

26. Some of whom live in Portland!!

27. Like Shannon Wilkinson.
28. Like Mark Silver.
29. And Linda Resca.
30. And Carolyn Winkler.
31. And Emma McCreary.
32. And Kate (whom I haven’t even met yet but we are so going to be friends forever).
33. And Jennifer Hofmann (who doesn’t really live in Portland but close enough that she was able to come visit me yesterday and spend the afternoon drinking tea and eating apples with cheese and giggling hysterically!)

34. I am taking a breath to take that all in. Living in San Francisco was pretty lonely for me after I came back from Berlin. I had a couple of years where I didn’t really make any new friends and then we moved to Portland and pow! Friends everywhere.

35. Ooh, internet friends! Too many to list!
36. But Naomi keeps me sane and given the amount of time we spend on the phone, I should really get her to move out here too when she’s done with England.
37. Come on, Naomi! Portland is just like England. It’s grey (see? I spelled it with an ‘e’ for you) and wet and we talk funny.
38. Speaking of Naomi, Online Business School is the bomb.
39. Speaking of my business thriving and (she types hopefully) becoming just ridiculously successful this coming year, I’m having so much fun with the beta group for The Next Big Thing.

40. Squirrels. Squirrels don’t suck at all. I can see some from my office window (I have an office!) and they are highly entertaining.

41. Being alive right now in this very moment is pretty darn great.

42. Thank you.

43. Non-sucky yoga.
44. Speaking of which, I’m going to be hanging out with Paul Grilley in Austin this winter. Yay!
45. I’ll get to meet Pace and Kyeli and stay in their house and meet their cats while I’m there. Yay!

46. Tomorrow’s Friday and I’m baking the best challah ever.
47. And my gentleman friend will make that spicy cauliflower potato dish and I will be extra-in-love with him.
48. My gentleman friend. I am the luckiest.
49. Love.

50. I have to say LOVE again. Love is incredible.

51. Technology. It’s not love, but man, it allows me to have this amazing job and do it from my home.

52. I will never have to work in a cubicle again.
53. Or a bar.
54. Because I really only worked in a cubicle for three months but it was the longest three months of my life and just thinking about having to do anything involving fluorescent lights makes me want to throw up.
55. Not just no more fluorescent lights but no more being screamed at.
56. No more people telling me what to do period.

57. Portland. Portland rocks.

58. Staying with Lars and Andreas when I do my yearly teaching jaunt to Berlin.
59. My favorite cafe.
60. My second favorite cafe.

61. Being alive because being alive is a really, really big deal.

62. Being able to write.
63. Understanding that blogging is therapy you don’t have to pay for and making full use of that understanding.
64. WordPress.org. Bless you people.

65. Being all biggified and stuff. It’s so awesome I can’t stand it.
66. Just the fact that I don’t have to explain what biggified means because people all over the internet use my made-up words for fun.
67. I mean, wow.

68. My bookshelf. Books!

69. Twitter.

70. My gentleman friend’s deep throaty laugh.
71. Also his chuckle. He has a great chuckle.
72. How hard I try to be funny just to hear him laugh.

73. Living with someone who shares my values which makes it so much easier to commit to eating local food and supporting local farmers like our friend Erica, and not buying things at box stores and never, ever even considering going to Starbucks and things like that.

74. Being here right now.
75. You.
76. I’m so glad you’re here.

77. Thank you.

Thanks for playing.

Selma and I had better go do something with these lentils. Ooh! I bet they’ll be delicious with that spicy cauliflower potato dish … must go ask the chef.

So much love to you.

Item! I’m doing it again!

Fluent Self Item!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.

Yes, we talked about that yesterday.

Anyway …

Item! Product development advice (not mine)

I’m pretty much always in product development mode. And I have a whole (fabulous) beta group right now helping me out with The Next Big Thing.

Obviously getting advice from people I trust and respect is great, but sometimes I also need a good reminder not to include absolutely everyone in that process.

I found this article on why not to share your product roadmap to be absolutely fascinating. If you don’t do products, you can skip this.

Item! A little chat with your former paranoid self? More fun than it sounds.

Seriously. Read Shannon’s brilliant piece on making mistakes.

It will totally make you want to engage in witty repartee (or something) with your own FSP.

And if not, it’s something to look forward to being able to do in the future.

Item! The funniest thing I’ve read this week.

My latest obsession is Johnny B. Truant from The Economy Isn’t Happening.

I’ve read this post about pants at least six times already. And every single time I collapse in giggles and then am madly jealous and then am overwhelmed by how thrilled I am to have found this blog.

If you’re a fellow Twitter-ite — and if not … come on in, the water is fine — he’s @JohnnyBTruant.

Also you should subscribe to his blog. And then promise to keep reading me even though I will never be that funny ever.

Item! Sitting down is painful.

The second funniest thing I read this week was this shockingly realistic account of freelancer life from Sparky Firepants.

Also, Mr. Pants (David, to you) may have convinced me to get a new chair.

Whoah, I just noticed that all the stuff I obsess over online has to do with pants. Weird, right?

Item! Avoid Teachstreet.com like the plague

How not to launch your business:

      1. be a spammy jerk and send unsolicited non-personal self-promotional email to random strangers and their ducks.
      2. don’t apologize for being a spammy jerk when you’re called on it.
      3. don’t respond at all to people who offer time and energy to help you not suck.

Here’s part of what I wrote to them (more than a week ago):

Just from a business angle and not only from the “be a mensch” angle — if you’re sending random people unsolicited non-personalized stuff they’re probably going to mark it as spam instead of just opt-ing out.

In a world where word-of-mouth is everything and where we’re all talking stuff up on our blogs and on Twitter, you really, really, really don’t want to start a relationship off like this.

The reason I’m taking the time to write this instead of marking-as-spam is because a. it looks like you have a decent idea and b. you’re from Seattle and I love Seattle. But come on. Don’t make us hate you.

Too late. I already hate them.

Their service might be awesome. But — hey guys, who’s even going to notice that if you’re going around stepping on toes! Don’t step on toes.

Item! I also want to wear a muu muu!

We’re all kind of becoming internet shut-ins with this work-from-home stuff.

And there’s no reason we shouldn’t do it in style. Time to break out the muu muu.

Seriously, I really am a hermit. I always way over-identified with that suspicious old recluse character in detective novels — sometimes it scares me how much I LOVE hermit-ing it up.

The only thing I like more is saying muu muu. Muu muu.

Item! I don’t feel like being grateful! Also, it’s American Thanksgiving tomorrow.

I wrote a (fairly) amusing article last year about the worst thing about Thanksgiving.

Namely, how annoying it is when everyone wants to shove a bunch of gratitude down your throat and make you count your blessings and stuff when you don’t feel like it.

If you do feel like it, then yay! When you don’t — and sometimes I don’t — it’s a big pain. So I will be playing one of my silly Ungratitude Games tomorrow. And I hope you’ll join me for that.

Okay. We’re done.

Have a great Thanksgiving if you celebrate. Until then …….. love from my duck. Selma would also like me to mention that if you eat duck, oy va voy. Don’t tell us about it! Thanks.