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.
Non-gross marketing and my Canadian love-child
If you hang out here a bunch, you’re probably wondering why I haven’t mentioned Naomi-my-internet-crush (aka Itty Biz) obsessively constantly lately in a while.
That’s because we’ve been secretly hanging out and engaging in passionate make-out sessions discussions. Discussions. Hot and heavy discussions. About interesting things.
Actually we have been brewing up a little something that is tough and powerful and hot.
But wait! I must backtrack.
If you don’t know Naomi yet … well, given that a big chunk of my readers are gentle spirits who, like me, are into yoga, self-work, and deep, intentional looking inward … it seems only fair to warn you.
Here’s the thing. Naomi is a potty mouth.
I love her to death and her cussing up a storm doesn’t bother me, but it wouldn’t be right not to let you know.
Did I say potty mouth? She curses like a sailor. Also, she called my duck a whore.
There’s actually a blog cussometer website that measures how much you swear on your blog — a site I hesitate to link to because: oh boy, time suck — and her ranking is a gazillion percent.
A gazillion? It’s 900% higher than that of most blogs. Close enough.
Yeah, I know I don’t exactly have wings and a halo here (my own blog is, after all, a place where “kosher-ass” is considered an acceptable adjective), but still. Nine hundred percent.
And she called my duck a whore.
I really cannot overemphasize that point. Although, to her credit, Selma did not seem to mind being dragged in the mud like that. It was like water off her back. No ruffled feathers there.
Ouch. See? Cursing is so much better than duck jokes. Not that I’m trying to distract you (I’m totally trying to distract you), but there are more important things in life than whether or not you’re a potty mouth.
Why I love Naomi and why you should too and then getting to the point.
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1. She’s super smart.
No. She’s more than that. Naomi is a small business marketing genius.
She knows a million useful things about how to market things, how to put yourself out there, and how to be successful doing it. And in a zero-sleaze, fully-authentic, non-irritating way. Which, let’s face it, is shockingly unusual in the world of internets.
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2. She knows her stuff like crazy.
Every single time she gives me advice, good things happen to my business. Fast.
I’ve had mentors. I’ve worked with business coaches. I’ve taken classes. She blows all that stuff out of the water.
3. She makes you happy when you’re miserable.
Remember when I was all sad because I was breaking up with my noozletter?
And everyone was telling me that this was the stoopidest and craziest thing I could do to my business? Guess what Naomi said?
So rock the f*ck on with the no newsletter. Nobody reads newsletters. And they make people feel guilty.
Because you signed up for it, you feel like you have some kind of cosmic obligation, whether to the writer or to yourself, to actually read it. But you’re busy, so you let like nine of them pile up and then you start resenting the sender like it’s their fault you can’t get off your ass to read your email.
See? She’s like a fun, drunk Canadian version of me. But curse-ier.
How is she like me? Let me count the creepy ways. Like me, she’s a Pisces. Actually her birthday is one day after mine. She’s a helper-mouse who genuinely cares about other people, and wants to use her powers for good. And she has my old haircut.
Weird, huh? Also, did I mention that my middle name is Naomi? It is. Weird, huh? I’ve got to stop saying that.
But mostly she just thinks intently and passionately about things I care about. We come to different conclusions occasionally but we hang out on pretty much all the same wavelengths, and that’s the important thing.
If I weren’t me and a yoga freak and all that stuff, I would probably be her. Luckily I don’t have to, because she’s doing such an impressive job of it.
And (drum roll please) here’s the scoop:
We’re going to be collaborating. Not in the creepy way though. More like: combining jedi forces to do good in the world and help people we like.
What happened was this:
We were on the phone, talking about how freaking tragic it is when people we love have an idea for a cool thing — or maybe they’re already doing the cool thing — but then they can’t promote it because promoting it is scary and overwhelming and uncomfortable.
And I was saying how I wished she could zap my clients with her ninja marketing skills and genius ideas.
And she was saying how she wished I could zap her clients with my calming-the-heck-down dust and smart yet wacky how-to techniques.
It was clear we had to do something.
And it was clear that this something should also be out there for people who aren’t our clients and who would never even think of hiring us because it’s too scary or too expensive or all sorts of other things. Because it’s not fair to them that they don’t get access to this stuff.
This something had to be the most accessible, affordable, full of awesome how-to-ish-ness program ever, so that we could facilitate breakthroughs and give people structure and support and work with people we think are fun.
Like, how to work through terror, overwhelm and rampant what-if-ization to feel safe, comfortable and supported doing the thing … all rolled into six weeks of study.
So we went to work.
It’s a boy! I mean, it’s a program.
Right. And what got born was the course I wish I had taken three years ago before learning everything the hard way. Really good stuff.
Anyway, here’s what I want you to do. If the theme of self-promotion for people who can’t stand promoting anything and don’t want to be gross but also would like to make some money sounds like something that might be up your alley …. take a look.
There’s a discount-ey thing for people I like. (IMPORTANT)
Naomi and I figured that we should be able to charge less when it comes to people we think are awesome. And actually, I kind of think that everyone who reads this is awesome.
So should you want to do our how to promote the cool thing you do without being gross and/or getting tangled in scary, overwhelming horribleness, yay. And then you can write the word havi in the shopping cart where it asks you for a coupon code, and it knocks $30 off the price.
(Actually, write havi in there first and press “apply” before you do anything else. That way there’s no chance of something going weird.)
This program thingie? Really fun. Yes, wildly helpful with seriously useful stuff, but also: there will be fun.
So drink boring non-alcoholic champagne with me in the comments, and then come play — because this is for you.
Twitter demystified and debunked
This is a post about Twitter. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I’d never do a Twitter post but people persist in asking me to explain what on earth I’m talking about.
And I’m gradually getting tired of giving my tough love “here’s the thing, you’re doing it wrong” talk to people who’ve tried it and think it’s boring or stupid. It’ll be a lot easier if I can just send them a link.
And anyway, I promised two readers of this blog who are Twitter newbies that I’d give them some tips.
The great debunking begins.
You know what? People talk a lot of trash about Twitter but really that’s just because they’re doing it wrong.
And can you blame them? Well, you could, but please don’t. It’s not their fault. I blame the Twitter myths.
Yes, it’s absurd that something so young has already acquired a stack of associated myths and legends, but there it is — so let’s take these babies apart. It’s debunking time, my friend.
Twitter Myth #1: It’s “microblogging” or something.
Uh, no. That’s not what Twitter is about. It’s not “microblogging”. No one says, “Oh, boy! You know what I feel like this morning? Microblogging!” Yuck.
(And, by the way, even if there technically was such a thing as microblogging? So what? Microblogging — for those of us who aren’t social media consultants — is an empty, boring, meaningless word. Meh.)
It doesn’t matter anyway whether it is or isn’t because everyone is wrong, and actually that whole tiresome “Gee, what is Twitter?” debate is completely over, because what Twitter is, as it turns out, is a bar.
It’s a bar.
It’s the local neighborhood bar/cafe thing where you hang out. A multi-dimensional neighborhood bar/cafe thing.*
*Only it’s online. And sometimes from your phone. I know. Get over it, it’s the future.
Why do you hang out in your neighborhood bar/cafe thing?
Because it’s your local. It’s your place. It’s where your friends are. It’s where you make new friends. It’s where you go because sometimes being smart and funny in your head just doesn’t cut it.
Is it always cool? No, sometimes it sucks. Maybe no one you like is there. Maybe it’s that new bartender who plays weird music. So you leave. But you come back later anyway because the good days are so, so good.
This bar/cafe/whatever has the awesomest people in the world and yes, some that are just not your people. Hey, it’s up to you to choose where to sit.
If you sit where people are talking loudly on their cellphones, blowing cigar smoke in your face or hitting on you, then yeah, it’s probably going to be yucky and horrible.
If you find a corner where a bunch of smart, interesting people are talking about smart, interesting things, it’s going to be engaging and soul-nourishing. And fun.
If you go and don’t talk to anyone, you might well wonder why you shouldn’t just have your beverage-of-choice at home. Yes, in that case it will be boring.
So. It can be the best bar ever or just that lame place on the corner. Your choice.
Twitter Myth #2: It’s about answering the question “What are you doing?”
No, no, no. This is a misunderstanding of almost tragic proportions, unwittingly perpetuated by the hapless Twitter regime.
If you try to follow the rules according to Twitter, you’ll get lost in a hurry. They ask you right up front to play the game by answering the question “What are you doing”. Do not answer this question! False start. Fail.
Twitter is not about “What are you doing?” in the exact same way that real-life conversations are not about “Hey, what are you up to?” even though they might start that way.
If you try to talk about what you’re doing (unless what you happen to be doing is boxing a poodle while stilt-walking with your poodle-booter troupe), you will almost certainly be boring.
And the first rule of Twitter is “Do not be boring!”
Worse, you may tend to be honest. You may say things like “Eating a banana” or “Taking my kid to soccer practice”.
I refer you to the first rule, mentioned above.
So what should you type into that little box?
Well, the question Twitter really means to ask is “What are you thinking? No, what are you really thinking?”
Or: “What do you think about the thing that you’re thinking?”
Or: “How about you let that voice in your head do the talking for a minute, eh?”
You know that inner voice? The one that narrates a steady commentary of funny, meaningful, goofy and profound things that you usually just say to yourself and no one ever gets to appreciate?
Twitter is that voice’s new home. It is where that voice goes to hang out. Because that voice needs a voice. I mean, it needs a bar.
Twitter myth #3: It’s a time suck.
Uh, no. Twitter does not have to be another procrastination thing. Again, I think you might doing it wrong.
It really only takes a couple of seconds to post something. There’s a 140-character limit, for heavens sake.
Then you take three to five minutes to catch up on what everyone else is up to, and you’re done.
It’s pretty much always going to be a shorter break than the “Oh, I’ll just check my email” rabbit hole.
And here I’ll briefly put on my giant “Hi, I just wrote a book on Dissolving Procrastination” hat so that you trust my expertise on this ….. Twitter is so not the enemy. It’s not. It’s one of the few “right-sized bite-sized” breaks you’ll find on the internets.
Twitter is recess. And recess is good for the soul. Yes, it can be a time suck. So can anything. Including poodle-boxing. But if you use it mindfully as a quick in-and-out, Twitter is actually a productivity tool.
A fun productivity tool that also doubles as the weirdest but most successful marketing technique ever and is also a bar. Beat that.
Twitter myth #4: There are no problems in Twitterville.
Okay, this is a myth that I just made up. A mythical myth, if you will. Twitter is far, far from a problem-free zone, but here are the three main issues and their solutions:
(1) As with any bar, there are people who come to get in fights. Some of these are people who just genuinely enjoy a good brawl and some of these are people who are mean, hurting, hate-filled trolls.
Don’t hang out by that one pool table if you don’t like fights.
(2) And as with any bar, there will be some creepy guys who want to buy you drinks. You use body language to tell them to back off (that’s the block button) and if they overstep, report them to @oddfollow and to the shift manager the Twitter people.
(3) And of course there’s the fail whale.
Sometimes Twitter is broken, and usually just when you really need that metaphorical whiskey or cup of coffee or whatever and your hands are shaking. It’s time to face up to the fact that you are addicted to Twitter. No worries. You’re in good company.
Take whatever smartnesses you were going to spread to the world and turn them into a blog post. It will be back later. Join the Fail Whale Fan Club. (I’m not even kidding, there’s a fan club.)
Or you can just go to IsTwitterDown.com and press the refresh key over and over again like a rat hoping for a yummy, yummy food pellet. We’ve all been there. It’s okay. You’ll be fine.
See you at happy hour, right?
If you want to follow me I’m the one in the pink angora beret I go by @havi. Just so you know, I sometimes say horribly inappropriate things that I would never say here. That’s because it’s a bar.
It’s also my very favorite place on the internets. It’s where that voice in my head likes to hang out. And I pretty much go wherever she goes.
If you want me to follow you back, talk about poodles. Or start up a conversation. I don’t bite.
Special thanks to Laura Fitton aka @pistachio who accidentally inspired this post by being awesome.
It’s not freaking easy, okay?
So stop saying it is.
I was talking with my friend Nathan Bowers (total WordPress consultant to the stars) the other day about how frustrating tech stuff can be for people.
Nathan’s pretty awesome in general but it was especially great the way he — as someone who lives in the tech world — agreed, instead of saying what most tech people say: “But it’s easy”.
Because he’s smart enough to know it isn’t. And I quote:
I wouldn’t dream of saying anybody is dumb for not being immersed in this stuff. Unlike many geeks, I know that technology is hard and most people are barely muddling through. It’s my job (and yours, and anybody who runs a web biz) to make it not hard.
Man, I love that. Because really, there’s nothing more horrible than feeling like a idiot because something is really hard and scary for you — and then having some irritating expert say “No, no, no, actually it’s super-easy”.
It’s not.
You know what else people say is easy? Spanish.
Keep in mind that I used to teach both languages and language-learning, so if I wanted to I could give you the whole “actually all languages are equally hard (or easy)” lecture and quote a bunch of linguists to back me up.
But forget about theory and statistics for a minute. Let’s just talk about me. Because if that isn’t why I have a blog … I don’t know how to finish this sentence but it feels like it should end in an exclamation point!
Here’s me. I’m fully bi-lingual in English and Hebrew. And I speak German well enough that I can deliver a three hour lecture in it without notes. That’s three languages I can read novels in without needing a dictionary. Three languages I can be funny in. Three languages I can insult your mother in.* Okay?
*Four, actually, with Yiddish. Not that I would. Good heavens, no. I’m just establishing credentials here.
But I spent two years trying desperately to learn Spanish while I was at university in Tel Aviv, and can’t remember a thing.
Two years of Spanish? I cannot. Put. Together. A. Sentence.
And it can’t even be blamed on the passage of time, because the truth is, I never got it. Sure, I memorized stuff for exams but did I ever actually understood what the hell was going on? Sadly, no.
Could I learn it now? Sure, but only because I’ve got badass techniques. I could probably learn anything now.
But that’s not the point. The point is: don’t freaking tell me that Spanish is easy. Spanish is not easy. And when you say it is I kinda want to smack you for implying that it must be me who’s a little slow.
Which brings me to the point of this whole mini-rant:
Nothing is easy when you’re the one who can’t do it.
And having someone tell you it’s easy does not make it easier.
No kidding. If anything, having some jerk tell you it’s easy actually makes it harder because now in addition to learning the thing, you’re annoyed that it’s taking so much effort to master something that someone else — usually someone who isn’t even that bright to begin with — is telling you is easy.
Okay, enough with the rant. Let’s talk applications.
So you know how to do things that other people don’t. That’s terrific. Love it. You want to help them. Even better. They want your help. Perfect. But they don’t want to know that you think it’s easy.
Here are three ways you can apply this information to make stuff easier.
Application #1: Talking to people you want to serve.
Yes, this is also known as “marketing”. I know, it needs a better word.
Here’s the thing — telling people that the thing they want and are struggling to get is easy to do or attain — just not smart.
You can promise those people (if it’s true) that your system or method or product or whatever will help make the process easier for them. You can tell them that you will show them short-cuts or tricks that will make the hard more bearable. You can show them how to navigate the hard.
Don’t say “it’s easy if you know how”. People won’t buy stuff when they think that the person selling just doesn’t understand how hard things really are. And if you do think it’s easy, you really aren’t getting what they’re going through.
Application #2: Relationships
If you madly care about someone, and that someone is struggling with something, it’s your job to be there with them in their time of stuckness.
Just show up. Not just because it’s the kind, compassionate golden-rule-ish stand-up thing to do, but because otherwise they won’t listen to you.
Don’t say that it’s easy to quit drinking coffee or to learn how to do taxes or to parallel park. Of course you want to share whatever it is that comes easily to you. You want to share your hard-won knowledge and mad ninja skills.
But if you tell them it’s easy, they won’t be able to receive it.
Acknowledging that it’s hard and that they’re dealing with something that’s a big challenge for them is the only way to go. This is what lets them open up to whatever you know that might make things easier.
This is frustrating and requires loads of patience. I know it’s hard. I love you for trying.
Application #3: Persuasion
Persuasion is a loaded word. I do not mean this in some gross, “convincing other people to do your evil bidding” sort of way.
Think of it as finding a way to help people understand that you have a tool that can actually help make their lives … well … easier.
The answer is the same as in the first two applications. Acknowledge their pain. Feel it. Recognize how big and uncomfortable it is. Meet them where they’re at — in the hard part.
Make sure they know that you know (or remember) how hard it is, and offer help only after you’ve empathized the hell out of their pain. Hmm, poor phrasing, but I think you know what I mean.
You aren’t doing this to be manipulative. You’re doing this to be a mensch. It’s the only way you can really help them. And in their fear and stuck and hard, it’s the only way they can really say “yes” to help from you.
That’s it.
Okay, rant over. Really. I’m willing to try that thing you wanted to show me now.
I don’t even care if it’s hard. Just remember to keep telling me you know it’s hard.
Some rules are meant to be . . . admired: The “No Asshole Rule”
So I read about three nonfiction books a week, mostly biggification and self-work (what regular people call business and self-help). Rated on a scale of ducks: 1 duck = Stephen Covey (yawn) and 5 ducks = Malcolm Gladwell (do a little dance). Books worth reading are image-linked to independent bookstores.
The book: The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized Workplace and Surviving One That Isn’t.
The author: Robert Sutton, PhD. (Also: professor of management science and engineering at Stanford, and all-around swell guy.)
The rating: 4 ducks
What I thought.
This is a smart, funny, sweet, interesting and useful book with lots of neat studies, good research and clever ideas. And it’s well-written too, gott sei dank.
Sutton is a thoughtful, engaging writer (who blogs!) and he’s completely like-able.
In fact, I had the feeling that I could happily have a conversation with him on absolutely any subject and find it fascinating (Bob, if you’re reading this and you ever get to Portland, let me know and I will invite you to dinner!).
Also, you have to love how the title (best title ever?) sums it all up so thoroughly that I don’t have to actually tell you what the book is about or anything about the content. Take that, short review.
And … should you be thinking that the title is somewhat distasteful, he discusses that too, as well as the process of deciding that no, this was really the only thing to call it.
Sutton systematically breaks down the patterns of at-work assholeness, if you will, and talks about who these people are, how to recognize them and how to know when whoops, you’re doing it too. Actually, his “we all have an inner jerk, so let’s be honest here” approach is both endearing and refreshing.
Only one caveat, and it’s not a big deal.
The one thing the book is short on is the how-to side, where, of course, I am naturally tempted to jump in and suggest/apply a bunch of my techniques. Or whatever, forget about my techniques. NVC, baby.
Sutton tends to throw up his hands when it comes to dealing with certain difficult situations in a kind of “whaddya gonna do” attitude, whereas I want him to be more concrete, probably because I already have very concrete opinions on exactly what you could do in these situations.
It doesn’t matter though. The book is about mind shifts, and mind shifts are the important part anyway. I enjoyed this book thoroughly, and it gave me plenty of good material to think about.
Cool unintended side-effect of reading this book:
We’ve all worked with that person. We’ve all had uncomfortable confrontations or uncomfortable avoidance of potentially difficult confrontations.
Though it’s a business book, not a self-help-ey book, you can definitely use it for healing.
Reading the book brought up lots of old memories for me of various people I’ve worked for who could have single-handedly justified the need for such a rule. Doing some work and processing around this has helped me release some old pain and helplessness around certain work-related situations*.
*I know you’re all dying for some juicy Moroccan mafia stories from my pre-yoga life, but that will have to wait for some other occasion.
Bonus fabulousness:
One of my favorite business writers (Leigh Buchanan) interviewed Sutton about the No Asshole Rule for Inc Magazine.
Leigh is so freaking great that even in an interview where all she gets to do is ask questions, she’s still a kick in the pants. But more to the point: it’s good stuff.
Bottom line? I love this book.
Well written, relevant, useful. Read it!**
**Yeah, I’m talking to you, Marshall Goldsmith.
Friday RoundUp #3: the break-up edition
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.
The hard stuff
Breaking up with my nooz.
If you were here this week, you already know what the hardest part of my week was. After almost three years of regularly writing my beloved noozletter, I let it go. I dumped my nooz and it was hard and scary and weird.
And yeah, I know you probably think I was all strategic about this, but really I wasn’t.
Actually, my intent this week had been to go crawl into hang out in this one business forum I’m in.
(Which is, interestingly enough, facilitated by the awesome Mark Silver — who incidentally also starred in last week’s Friday Round-up as the mysterious guest forced to drink juice out of a Harley Davidson wineglass).
The plan was genius: I was going to show up and explain to my co-thinkers a little bit about what I was going through, and ask for help. And they were going to comfort me and give me good ideas. Which they totally would have.
Except that I didn’t make it that far.
I got as far as starting — but not finishing — a post where I listed some of the problems I was having with the nooz:
1. Resentment. Used to love, then to like, now kinda hating. Too much work in the back-end and too little fun all around. I wanna be hanging out here on the blog where all the fun is. Stuckness.
2. Envious of friends who have biggified blogs and who are growing their businesses like crazy without even doing the noozletter thing. What? You don’t need a nooz? Nooz to me. I want like this too!
3. My own mental health. Because doing stuff I hate? Bad for me.
4. Trusting the seachange: it’s just time. I’m done.
At that point I stopped and meditated on it. then I re-read what I’d written and realized:
Oh. Right. So I guess I don’t actually need help deciding because apparently I’ve already decided.
Right away it became a question not of “argh, what the hell do I do next?” but “okay, so what are my options?”
Did that make it easier?
Mmmm, not really. It gave me focus, which is nice. But break-ups still suck. Plus I’ve been ending relationships left and right. And it’s a lot to process and adjust to.
Among other things: taking on a brand-new business model, based on not much more than a feeling. And it’s a lot of goodbyes. Sad face.
Okay, can we move on to the good stuff? Because there was good stuff like crazy this week, and thank goodness because I needed it.
The good stuff
My clients’ dads can beat your clients’ dads at arm-wrestling.
This completely inspiring post (from a smart, creative artist I recently worked with) made my week.
We did a one-time mini-session on dissolving procrastination and shifting some stucknesses in the creative process. Well, the creativity was already there, obviously — just nothing happening with it because of some old stuckification patterns.
We got a lot accomplished in less than an hour, and had some serious fun doing it. Heather was also cool about letting me experiment on her with a brand new, uh, wackier-than-usual technique, and we got some really great results.
Anyway, here she is, having gone from pretty much not wanting to think about it to publicly blogging about the process. Which is huge.
Go read about Heather’s decision and cheer her on because she’s awesome.
Speaking of my clients and how awesome they are …
I did an emergency session over the weekend for a former client who had a huge, important, scary, horrible meeting coming up Monday that she was not looking forward to.
It sounded hellish as all get out, to be honest, and my job was to help her come up with a. strategies for not freaking out and b. useful language to get her points across and be heard.
We did both. She survived the scary, came through the meeting-from-hell with flying colors and reported that the language we came up with helped enormously.
I was super proud and happy for her, and also really excited that she was able to use the techniques and all the other stuff we worked on in the moment. Because that’s the test.
Coolest thing ever.
Someone who bought the Procrastination Dissolve-o-matic wrote this in the shopping cart:
I have to say your site is fabulous. I’d read your landing pages just for fun any day!
First of all, that’s just plain cool. Second of all, I’ve never heard of anyone reading sales copy for fun — even biggified marketing people — but whoah, shouldn’t that be an obscure hobby? Or maybe … an Olympic event? No? Fine. I’ll shut up about it.
The break-up, part 2.
Okay, I actually have to include the nooz break-up here in the “good stuff” list too, because while it was really hard and sad, it was also completely liberating.
Also, I would like to add that my gentleman friend is the kindest, most loving gentleman friend in the entire world.
He didn’t say “Oh my god, you’re going to lose all your income and all your clients and your business will go to hell”. He said “Good for you! Taking out things that cause you resentment! You’re really walking your talk.” And then I cried.
Confrontation (and rain gear!)
This one is also a mix of hard and good, that ends up all good. Remember the super expensive raincoat from last week? Well, it showed up and I hated it.
Can I go way, way off our regular topics of “changing yer habits and patterns” and “promoting that thing you do in a smart, conscious way”? Oh, good.
The raincoat I ordered was a “medium”. The raincoat I received was a tent. A muu-muu of gargantuan proportions.
It swamps me. I didn’t take pictures because it was too horrible, but just imagine yards and yards of billowing material with me poking out from somewhere in the middle, and my gentleman friend holding his stomach from laughing at me.
Normally if something is too big you just go down a size. But for this coat I’d need to go down maybe five sizes, and as far as I know they don’t make them in XXXXS.
Also: keep in mind that “small” is not really a word that anyone has ever associated with me.
I’m tall. Taller than average. Plus I’m big-boned. By which I do not mean chubby or round or whatever — if that were the case I’d just say it.
What I mean is … my bones: they are large.
And — you know, being the #2 world expert in an obscure body-mind martial-art-like training thing — I have big, crazy muscles to go with the big bones.
Which is to say: it’s patently absurd that I would wear anything under a medium. If anything, the medium should be tight.
That wasn’t the hard. The hard is that I hate confronting people and this week has been all about confronting people and then I had to return the coat. So you’re probably wondering at this point where the good part comes in. Three things.
1. Instead of avoiding confrontation (as is my wont), I called the company up and told them how I felt.
2. I employed the art of the ask and, while I didn’t get what I wanted, now at least I don’t have to pay for shipping the stupid thing back to them. And I asked instead of not asking, which for me is still pretty awesome because it’s pushing (bonus: pushing gently, not violently) against the pattern.
3. Guess what? Turns out there’s a Columbia outlet store right near my friend’s house … so I got a fabulous raincoat — from a local business — that fits — for $50. Rock. On.
It doesn’t fold up into a neat little package, and it isn’t a cool shade of blue, but hey, it didn’t cost $150 and it doesn’t make me look like Inspector Gadget when he turns into a balloon. I repeat: Rock. On.
That’s it for me ….
And yes, you’re totally welcome to join in my Friday ritual if you feel like it and/or there’s something you just want to say out loud too.
Happy weekend. Happy week to come.