This Week's Finance Lesson: Vanguard is NOT a Vacuum Cleaner Company

I made some type of investment this week. Not really the real grown up kind, but like a savings account that does more for you than a savings account. I did it through the grown-up company Vanguard which I thought was a vacuum cleaner company until I learned they are not as I was transferring one thousand dollars to them. One thousand dollars is their minimum investment amount which is what I chose and now I have a very real fear that I’ll never again see 4 digits in my bank account balance. I was really proud of that thousand dollars. “But what about your savings?” you ask? I don’t have any. THAT’S RIGHT. I DON’T HAVE ANY SAVINGS, OK!? OK!?? Well, I have my tax refund. Which I have vowed will be the beginning of my glorious savings. People (my age) are now saying things like “well, I’m considering going on that trip but I’d hate to dip into my savings” to which I respond by nodding with a neutral face. Did someone give out a packet about this in high school that I didn’t get? Or maybe I got it and ignored it and threw it away because sometimes I do that. But I would have followed directions if I had known. I wonder when those people found out they were supposed to do that…


So anyway, I decided to open some type of investment account. Through a long series of complicated events, my roommates and I got 2 months free rent on our apartment and I was worried I wouldn’t have the discipline to save that money which lead me to try and figure out how to do this investment account thing because I heard it’s harder to get your money out quickly. I would tell you if it’s a money market or a bond or stock or ETF or a Mutual Fund or an Annuity but I can’t because I have no idea which one it is. I just learned all those word when I saw them on the website. I picked Vanguard because my Mom told me to. I thought she was silly because she meant to tell me the name of a bank but instead told me the name of that Vacuum cleaner company, but it turns out she had the right name. There were only 4 options of things with a minimum of $1,000. The rest had a minimum of $3,000 and I don’t have $3,000 so that made the process a lot easier right there. 3 of the options were “Target Retirement” options and one was a “STAR Fund”. Now it seemed like I had only 2 choices. Retirement or STAR. Retirement feels like a long way away and Star was one of the few words I recognized on the Vanguard site and I like Stars so I picked it. And gave the stars $1,000 of my dollars. And put a gold star on my mirror in my bedroom to remind myself not to forget I have $1,000 somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind, you know. So there you have it. I have an investment (fund? Account)… something. I figure worst case, it will be a really great $1,000 financial lesson.

So if you’re in the same position, wishing you had savings to “try and not dip into” … let me know. I can’t give you advice, but I have 28 gold stars left on this sticker pad if you need one as a reminder. And then I will go out for drinks with you.



Keeping you posted-

-d

Friday Reminder

My friend Brooke texted me these quotes this morning.  Snippets of the conversation happening between two girls behind her at the airport:

“She is such a loser that even this picture of her kissing Leonardo DiCaprio doesn’t make her cool.”

Jealous.

“You’ve met her roommate, right?  She’s the worst.  She’s just like so insecure that she can’t even carry on a conversation.  But she was like really nice. Yeah, I mean SO nice…”

But she’s so nice.

“I can’t wait to get a cortado like they have in Spain.  But aren’t we going to Miami? Yeah, I mean, they like have it in Miami too.”

Aren’t we going to Miami?  No.

If you were one of these girls at Laguardia this morning, all I have to say to you is “No, ma’am.”

Just a reminder to keep your feet on the group, folks. Don’t be that girl.

Happy Friday :)

Don't Look Down When You Get to the Top

My supervisor is on vacation this week ("Is that why you're blogging during work hours, Drew?") which means I'm a Lone Ranger for a while.

The first time Danielle (my supervisor) went on vacation, I was terrified.  Granted, we were very busy at that time and we're only a two-member team, but I really didn' think I was going to make it.  I came in early and stayed late every day and over-prepared for everything.  A couple of times, questions came up with both clients and vendors that I had NO idea how to address.  They would call and say things like:

"Could you do a week-over comparison on today's wrap and let me know if we should take out a two-by-seven on the Times for Friday?"

"Absolutely!"

"Do what you can to get a discount."

"You bet."

Then I would immediately Google Search "week-over", "wrap", "two-by-seven" and "how to get a discount with the New York Times."  ASTOUNDINGLY, Google is not (yet) personal enough to tell me how to interact with clients (or build a relationship with the New York Times in an hour), so occasionally I would have to reach out to real humans who have been doing this longer than I.  Sometimes I would get short, semi-helpful answers, and sometimes I would get answers like this:

"This is not what I do.  I could help with this, but not today.  Unless YOU want to handle Bring it On and Tyson post-openings for me."

(That's real.  I copy/pasted.)  I didn't know if I should be embarrassed or pissed.  Yes I was mad, but I still didn't have an answer! Then I got an email from a woman on this same email chain saying “Ignore him.  He’s obviously having a day.  This is what we’ll do….”  I almost cried I was so relieved.  She ended up being my mentor for the week.  She was patient, helpful and encouraging.  It was a big huge deal in and of itself that she took the time to do that for me, but to give you the full picture I need to tell you a bit about her.  She’s not another AE who’s been here a couple years longer.  She’s currently the Editorial Director of our Interactive department.  She and her husband owned a digital agency that is now a part of Serino/Coyne.  Believe me, of all people, she had better things to do that week. But she never seemed exasperated or annoyed; she would just say “Don’t apologize, let’s figure this out” and then we would.  To her, I’m sure it really was no big deal because that’s her nature.  But to me it meant everything.  It not only meant that I could get through that week on my own and actually do a GOOD JOB, but it also meant that there are people who have been at the top, in a Manhattan ad agency, and still remember what it felt like to be the little guy – and not only remember but CARE about the new little guy in the office. It matters. It's easy to forget that it matters, but Laurie didn't forget and I'm not going to either.  I gained more confidence in that week than I had in the 3 months leading up to it - and Laurie was a big part of it.

It's been about 2 years now, and this week has been a heck of a lot smoother than that one was.  Laurie just stopped by my desk, left a piece of chocolate and said "Remember how nervous you were when Danielle went on vacation for the first time?"

There are a hundred things a day that we do/say without thinking, but they matter to someone.  When you're short with someone because someone else made you mad earlier, when you decide not to say "thank you" because you're in a rush, when you put someone else down (even subtly) to look a bit taller in front of co-workers... those things matter.  And when they stack on top of one another, they start to matter a lot.  Don't forget how that feels as you rise in the ranks.  Acting like a big-shot won't take back those times someone made you feel like crap when you started.  Be kind, be helpful, be understanding.  The work will be better, and it will means something.

I'm going to do whatever it takes to remember.  Let's all be a 'Laurie' when we grow up.

I'll keep ya posted,

- d

Think Pink

I’m trying to be the kind of girl who wears “pop of color lipstick”.  It all started Friday when one of my co-workers was wearing this awesome red lipstick and said she was trying to be someone who wears red lipstick.  So now I’m trying to be that person, too.  I always tell my sister not to say she can’t “pull something off” because once you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.  There are just people who wear “that” and people who don’t, and if you are wearing it and not apologizing for it, you’re pulling it off.  So I’m wearing pink lipstick today.  Like – PINK, ya’ll.  It’s 1986 and I just walked into an aerobics class pink.  I’m not quite “believing it” yet, but step one is putting it on so I’m starting there.  I do feel empowered though.  Like, ‘that’s RIGHT you’ll hold that door for me – my lips are PINK! HOLD that door! PINK!’  So, we’ll see.  Sometimes (most of the time) it's the little things, right?

In other news, my roommates and I moved apartments this weekend.  It’s still a mess, but we’re getting settled and getting excited.  Here’s a sneak peak.  I’m most excited about this mirror above my bed because Gabe and I screwed it into the BRICK WALL like GANGSTAS! BOOP BOOP HOOP YEAH! 

Also had a great conversation with a friend I haven’t talked to in a long time.  She had some great thoughts on relationships, commitment, general “how the hell do we establish ourselves” –es.  You know, same old J  More on that later.

I’ll let you know if the pink lips are a success.  Or if I get fired for resembling a hooker.

Keepin ya posted,

-          d

Other People's Love Stories

Gabe and I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens Saturday for the Cherry Blossom festival.  It was really beautiful and fun (and crowded.  With people dressed up as Anime characters.  Who knew?  I didn't.)  I included some pictures at the bottom if you want to check them out.

We were walking on the Upper East Side to hang out with some friends when we passed a stack of books on someone's apartment stoop.  This kind of thing happens a lot in the city where people put their unwanted things outside for the taking.  It looked like they were moving or spring cleaning and had done a book shelf weed-out.  This is the sort of thing I can't pass up.  I don't know what it is... if someone invited me into their home, I'd have no interest in snooping around in their things.  But something like this feels so exciting to me!  Like a glimpse into a stranger's life - so I stopped to look at them.  (It might be weird - people have told me before.  Whatever.  I'm gonna do it again next time, I don't care.  I'm a honey-badger).  I ended up taking one of those little monochromatic books with little pictures of animals in it.  That's where my heart lead me that night.  Guess I wasn't feeling particularly profound.  Here's the prize:

I forgot I took it until tonight when I was cleaning out my purse (which is  a miracle since it's like a semi-annual event).  I got about 5 pages in and noticed there were tiny hand-written notes in the margin.  Commentary on the little story - about falling in love.  

I was like omagod! This is so an ex-girlfriend gift that he couldn't burn because he lives in a studio walk up so he threw it out on his steps!  Maybe that story is more exciting... but it turns out that's not the case.

It's an engagement gift - from a mother-in-law-to-be.  There's a note in the back to Lindsey about how excited she is to welcome Lindsey to the family.  How she knows they are soul mates and will be forever.

I closed it for a minute.  I shouldn't be reading this!  Why would someone throw this away?  Did they not go through with the wedding?  Did she forget why this book was significant and just deemed it clutter? Did she not mean to throw it out??  It's sitting on my bed and I'm actually considering putting it back just in case she misses it.  But I ended up reading the whole thing anyway.  Honey-badger.

Obviously every one of these millions of people bumping into each other on the subway every morning have rich stories and complicated lives, but it feels so strange to actually have a glimpse into one.  The Mom was so excited about the engagement.  They met at a bar in New York.

I hope it worked out.  I'm putting the book back. OK.

In other news  --  Brooklyn Garden Photos if you want to check them out.  So pretty.  They don't grow 'em like that in Texas.

What "home" means to my Pops

I received so many messages/texts/emails last night about how much yesterday’s post about “home” resonated with people – and it made my SO HAPPY!  It means so much to me that other people are working through these same things – or did at one time.  We have to put on a brave face so frequently (and often for good reason) and sometimes it feels good to be able to say “Uhg! I’m so glad you said that! Me too!”

I wanted to take a minute to share one message.  It’s from my Pops who is not struggling with these ideas now, but did at one time, and was thoughtful enough to share with me how he dealt with them.  I’ve read his email over and over again (it makes me the-good-kind-of-cry every time) at this point and will keep it forever. I love you, Pops.

Hi Drew!

 I just finished reading your latest blog.  That part about “home” resonated with me.  While I have not been isolated from “home” for as long as you have by time and distance, there were times when I was traveling extensively for NASA that I would miss home. To me home is always associated with family. So what worked for me when I got those lonely feeling was to go home in my mind.  I would think of the fun times we had as a family, think of individual family members, or certain activities we had enjoyed together, the visits (in the case of my parents and brother), the good stories, even sometimes the sad ones too. If you’re away from it, home is never where you are, it’s where your family is. And you can go there any time in your mind and know that while they are not with you physically, they are always there for you, will love and cherish you, and miss you as much as you miss them. Through all the good times and the bad, your family will always be “home” for you. 

I love you so much, peanut – keep your spirits up.  Pops

 

Keep your spirits up, ninjas!

Keeping you posted,

-          d

Back to Reality

#latergram blog post style.  Apologies for the delay.

It's our last day at Myrtle Beach and I'm sad to be leaving. I woke up with this unexpected feeling of melancholy that I haven't been able to shake.

When I get nervous or anxious or sad, I tend to get very quiet. It happens before a performance, any time I have to sing in front of people or give a speech, if I'm going to an event where I don't know a lot of people.  Some people get overly chatty or irritable; I deal with it by getting very quiet.

It happened this morning. All the girls were chipper and drinking mimosas together and I couldn't think of anything to say. I thought maybe I was just tired, but then I realized I knew this feeling.  So I came down to the beach- I felt like I might start I bring everyone else down.  I think it was a good decision – there’s so much breathing room here. We have to leave for the airport soon, but I have a couple minutes.

There's hardly anyone out here and it's cool, quiet, and beautiful.

I've been walking, trying to "change my mood" and thinking about how displaced I feel. I don't really feel like I'm leaving to go home. I've lived in this same apartment in New York for 2 years now, but it still doesn't feel like home, not really.  I'm comfortable there, it's familiar, I have friends and my own room (and a guinea pig, which like…how much more dedicated can you get?), but somehow it doesn't feel like home and I'm not sure why. I don't know what makes something feel like that. I imagine it’s the people - family.  Which makes me think- maybe the only home that really feels like home is the one you grew up in, until you have your own family?  Is that when you feel truly connected to a place again?  I'm sure it's different for different people. I've heard people say that their group of friends is more of a family to them than anything they've ever had. So maybe for them this does feel like home - or maybe nothing ever has.  I assumed that deep feeling of connection and establishment would evolve on its own out of something, just like it did growing up. You don't even know you're growing dangerously connected until you leave. But maybe now, it's something we have to make happen since we don't have parents to create it for us.  Maybe it comes from making a decision to commit to something, someone.  A place, a city, a person, a job and therefor a “hometown”.  A friend said to me the other day that grownups always talk about how wonderful it is to be committed – to a marriage or home or city – and I imagine (hope) that’s true, but I doubt they remember how difficult committing actually was at the time.  Maybe finding that “home” connection comes from biting the bullet and committing to something.

Our generations are very different in this regard.  There was more of a specific path expected of our parents, but we “have the world at our fingertips”.  It’s no longer: go to school, find a husband, get married and have children.  It’s: go to school, get a job, then do whatever the hell you want! Get married or don’t get married! Start a business! Become a lesbian! Anything goes! For my family at least, college was expected.  It was up to me where I would go, but that was the last stepping stone that was laid out for me.  And while it’s wonderful to have complete control over your life, there’s some fundamental need that is met with the feeling of simply fulfilling a task that is expected of you.  It’s clear, finite, and it feels good to live up to it.  You can check it off a list.  But now there is no list.  Not even the subconscious or “suggested” list that past generations had – and it’s wonderful.  And terrifying.  We have full ownership of every. single. life. decision.   It’s what we wanted.  And I’m grateful, but God it’s easier to caveat every decision with an “out”. “Yeah, you know, I’m doing this for now… we’ll see!”  Right now I feel about as committed to my East Harlem apartment as I do to this beach chair I'm sitting in.  It's both exhilarating and isolating, not being "tied down" to anything of real consequence.  Staying in this land of “I could get out at any time” is way less scary (less fulfilling?) than committing.  But I have this sinking feeling that this middle ground doesn’t create a life that feels like home.

So. I'm feeling melancholy and missing my family and home. Wishing I could stay on this beach forever.  In other news, I think I’m watching a little girl play on the beach for the first time in her life.  She was nervous about all the sand at first, but now looks comfortable enough to have been born on the beach.  She spent 2 whole minutes telling her friend about her brand new “bading” suit with watermelons on it.  I know you probably shouldn’t take photos of other people’s children…. But you can’t tell who they are, and I thought it was such a special moment that I wanted to share with you.

Must go to the airport to head “home” J

I’ll keep you posted,

- d

Also, no.

Mom's newest bling: breast milk jewelry

http://www.today.com/moms/moms-newest-bling-breast-milk-jewelry-1C9434850

Myrtle Beach Here I Come!... and this pig.

I feel like such a grown up because I’m going on a girl’s weekend trip!  Paid for by yours truly (well, and my friend Ellie’s parents’ time share) – just like they do in Something Borrowed.  They go on weekend trips.  And I was always so excited to be able to do it too when I was a 20-something – just like Rachel & Monica and Ted & Robin and Darcy & Rachel but NEWSFLASH: YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY WHEN YOU’RE 25!  At least, this one doesn’t.  But that’s ok because we got creative and we’re doing it and I’m PUMPED! Only real cost was airfare and we found tickets for $180 round trip– HOLLA! The problem (we- the girls of the girls trip- realized upon further research) is the additional fees including:

 a $10 “booking fee” (unavoidable).  You can look longingly at your $180 ticket online as long as you want, but if you want to book it – 10 bucks, baby. 

An $8.99 “passenger usage” fee (I’m very curious what they will be using us for). 

A $10 boarding pass printing fee (I will do a chalk rub of my boarding pass if I have to.  I will provide my own chalk from the dollar store).

A $50 fee to reserve a seat (an online selection which I ignored and am prepared to stand if that is what this leads to). 

A $35 checked-bag fee (no, thank you) plus a $30 carry-on bag fee. Um, No.  Don’t fear, we found a loophole.  You have to pay for a carry-on bag, but you are allowed a free purse. Ding! So I’m planning to bring a large beach bag containing every single thing I need for the trip with a small purse shoved inside it.  And if I get in any trouble I plan to put on a pained face and ask them to please ‘not discriminate against big-bagged ladies.’  I hope that’ll make them uncomfortable enough to let it go.

Do anyone else’s “big trips” look like this?  Were you surprised when you had no money come $25?  I hope I’m not the only one.  I don’t think I am.  NBC lied about this stage of life.  All that said, I kind of like the adventure of avoiding the fees.  Chalk rubs, giant bags and standing on a plane are so much more exciting than… you know… tickets, carry-on’s and sitting.  It’s going to be great.  Just great.  I can’t wait.

Oh!  I forgot to tell you!  I ate a pig’s eye last weekend for $40! Here’s the pig, but more on that later.

I’ll keep ya posted,

- d

The Creative Idea Gnome

Just a little Friday hello to you today!  I’m feeling pretty good this morning because I won the Don Draper award for a fake pitch competition we did this morning at our agency and I got this Creative Idea Gnome as my prize that gets to sit on my desk until the next competition and life is good.

 Since I’m acting as Don Draper today, I’ll give you all a little peek into the inside world of Broadway advertising (which he doesn’t do).  Normally I wouldn’t broadcast this, but the mistake has now been published in online articles so I don’t feel guilty.  When a new show opens, we try to be all over the internet with wonderful quotes from reviews that come out that night.  We have to send the websites our design ahead of time (before we get the quotes) and fill in the quotes the night-of.  Unfortunately, somebody published the preliminary version for Matilda The Musical which opened last night.

So they're not having quite as good a day.  I’m not worried.  The show received rave reviews and I haven’t stopped hearing wonderful things. It'll be just fine. But it gives us (the competing agency) just a twinge of satisfaction.  I don’t feel bad – I know Don Draper would revel in it.  (I'm going to let it go, I promise.  5 more minutes...)

With that, I’ll leave you with some other entertaining advertising snafus for some Friday entertainment.

Can you find the mistakes?

 

Simply unfortunate placement...

Happy weekend!

Grace In Your Heart and Flowers In Your Hair

This is for a special friend of mine who just made a big decision and is going through a really scary (= brave) change.  I was waiting on the subway platform last night thinking about you and how scary this is ( = brave you are) and how much I look up to you.  If I could sit and drink a beer with you tonight, this is what I would say.

I'm not going to pretend to know enough about the world to tell you what's "ok" and what's not, but I will tell you what is ok with me. If you decide this is what's best for you but that it's really hard, I will talk about the hard stuff as much as you want and that would be ok. If you decide you want to go back and try something else, I think that would be totally ok.  It’s ok with me that you’re scared.  Scared isn’t weak, scared is so strong.  If you didn’t do anything that made you scared, that might be weakness.  You’re putting yourself in a scary situation where you have to be brave to move forward and that’s big strength.  If this ends up being the best decision of your life and you fall in love and then become the first female president, I’d be ok with that too.  But not any more ok than any of the other options.

I know you’re struggling.  For now, do what makes you feel a little better.  I've found that in hard times, inspiration comes in tiny powerful bursts.  Things that inspire you feel really inspiring because you're feeling a lot, but they also burn out quickly. Don't be discouraged. It doesn't mean you can't be inspired, it just means you have to seek out more of those little firecrackers. It's a good thing because it'll give you a mission in the meantime and I for one always feel better when I have a mission. Seek them out. Those tiny things that inspire you. Don't worry about making it a great day or having the time of your life because that's a lot, and you'll miss the little firecrackers. You'll get to that, because I know that's what you want for yourself. I think that's your default. I know you and you wouldn't settle for anything less than that so don't worry about that now. You'll take yourself there naturally whether you know it or not.  Just one little firecracker at a time for now.

You're so brave. Unless you've been Jedi mind-tricking me all along, you're one of the bravest people I know. The thing I know that I know is that you care more about the reasons behind your decisions than most half-grown-ups our age, so I'm not worried about the decisions you make.  I don't think you'rev worried about that either.  Just get up, maybe sing a song in the shower, then do the thing you're supposed to do that day. If you want to watch reruns of The West Wing and eat Cheetos after work, then do that. That's it. Don't worry about making it a great day, making them proud or having enviable status updates on Facebook. Just do what makes you feel good. You can lean on people, they won't mind. The thing about time is that it takes a lot of time.

So many people love you including me and you're going to be great. But for now, just shoot for being good.  And when you’re not, ask someone to help you get there. It’s ok.

Another friend sent me this song when I was struggling and I think it’s beautiful.  Maybe you will too.

All all all my love.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have.
That's why I hold.

And I won't die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Or God knows where.
Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

Dutch-Ovened on the 6 Train

Every morning it's the battle of the people inside the subway car versus the people outside trying to get in. Everyone seems to be trying to get to work at the same time and of course everyone's time is important. What's funny is that as soon as someone manages to squeeze onto the subway car, they automatically have disdain for anyone else trying to get in. There's no room! Give it up and take the next one, geez!
One woman finally lost it this morning. The doors opened at 59th street to a wall of people ready to push their way in and she just screamed "THERES NO ROOM! I JUST ... CAN'T!" the man next to her said calmly "ma'am, there's room right here..."

"I HAVE!  ...   A BAG!"

I thought she was gonna cry.

The Mr. Belding look-a-like next to me felt it was his personal responsibility to traffic-direct our car. Every time someone was trying to get off he would yell things like "Dig a hole!" and "Hot soup!" I don't know what any of those things mean, but people moved out of the way.

So how did I handle it? How did I contribute? We finally reached Grand Central 42nd Street and right as we were ordered to "stand clear of the closing doors", I farted then slipped out.  Dutch-ovened those fools right on in there.

Make it a great day, y'all.

Keepin’ ya posted

- d

Bubbie and the Spacechair

Good day, guys. Good day, good day.  The sun is finally out and new York is less grumpy.  This afternoon a group of us went down to the Imperial Theater to shoot some audience testimonials for Nice Work if You Can Get It, which is a pretty typical thing for us to do.  We pick a specific demographic, take the camera equipment down through Times Square to the theater, then catch people as they leave the show to record their thoughts.  Today’s demographic was ‘old ladies from Long Island’ (pronounced LOHng – g – EYelind).  My job is to “wrangle”.  I’m pretty scrappy and consider myself a pretty good wrangler in life in general, but in this case I grab the women coming out of the show and ask if they want to be on camera.  I hadn’t done one of these in a while and forgot that while some of them politely agree or decline – some of them PEE. THEIR. GERSHWIN-LOVING. PANTS. I mean they are JACKED to talk about how much they liked the show and ON CAMERA!? Sign me up, Sweet-Haht!  It reminded me (as my job often does) that this is cool! Broadway shows are cool and New York City is cool!  Like anywhere you live, you get used to it after a while and it doesn't feel so special anymore.  I feel a bit swallowed-up by it all and then I’m reminded, by someone’s Jewish grandmother, that this thing that has become mundane, is actually pretty sweet.

It reminded me of a story that a friend of a friend posted on Facebook. He’s from New Jersey but currently living and working overseas.  I’ll use his words:

I was wheeling a discarded desk chair loudly up the street this evening and from many I received frowns and questioning glances. But this little girl, maybe 4 or 5, walking with her family looked at it with curious eyes. The mother said something that I sounded like, "Do you want to ride?" I turned the seat to the excited little face with some machine sound and we rolled up the sidewalk with her family making car noises. This strange action of doing something unusual brought at least 30 extra seconds of joy to this little girl and her family and definitely to myself. Mix it up.

Lesson learned: Kids see stuff through the lens of opportunity. A lens I think many of us have removed. Be brave enough to think outside the box and ignore what the people on the sidewalk might think. They'll be scowling at the norm. You'll be giggling in your space chair.

 

I love that – you’ll be giggling in your spacechair. That little girl didn’t give those dirty-lookers one minute of her time because she was busy riding around in her bad-ass spacechair.  And what a cool guy for meeting her where she was that night.  He could have easily rolled on passed them as well.

I love being reminded not to lose that curiosity and excitement.  Life really is too short to worry about what the people on the sidewalk are thinking.  Jump In. Sometimes it just takes a little nudge from a little girl (or in my case, a Bubbie).

Keeping ya posted-

 - d

ps - that picture is not the little girl from the story.  It's just a funny and semi-relevant picture I saw on the internet and I took it.  But I think they can get you fro that, right?  The internet people?  Publicity!  

pps - Look at me learnin Jewish things!  Bubbie!  Who woulda thought....

One of my genius co-workers has this written in her office today.  Vulnerability pays off!  There's (unfortunately?) no other way.

Take risks, ninjas!

Girls #FunnyNotFunny

I started a book club.  Sort of because I love reading but mostly because I needed something to look forward to on Monday nights since The Bachelor ended.  May seem like an unnatural transition going from a slutty 2 hours of people making out in hot tubs to 2 hours of discussing literature with your peers, but it’s somehow felt like a very logical transition for this group.  Our first meeting was last night.  There are about ten girls who have committed, and we were all sending excited emails back and forth about how pumped we were for our first real meeting.  Then, about 5:15, the other emails started rolling in: “I have to bail… I’m covering that story about the DA who was shot today…”  and “May be late, may not make it.  Waiting on the producer to approve this New York Times ad…”.  I spent about 30 seconds feeling cool because my friends sounded important, then moved on to deciding whether or not to cancel.  We ended up cancelling “official book club” for the night, and just getting together at whatever time anyone was available to eat pizza and hummus (weird?), drink wine, and talk – and it was awesome.

We talked about work, friends and boys, but we landed on a topic that stayed with me even after they left.  It had to do with the show Girls.  If you haven’t seen it, it’s based around four girls, all in their 20’s, sorta almost getting it together in Brooklyn, NY.  It’s very funny and sometimes sad and pretty-all-the-time honest.  We suddenly all had a lot to say about the show.  A couple people really felt for the girls who couldn’t seem to get their careers together, or couldn’t find the discipline to motivate themselves. Some of us felt for the girl who was insecure about her love life, her weight or her parents.  But ALL of us felt for them.  We talked about the various controversies that the show has inspired (not racially diverse enough, the lead isn’t pretty enough, it isn’t true to life, it’s too true to life…) and then one of my friends said “You know, the show is technically a comedy…”.  Her point was not that show isn’t funny – it’s really funny.  The main character is a self-absorbed, poor, insecure but overconfident shit show. But it’s pretty true.  Which is kind of not funny.  We 20-somethings hear all the time that we’re at a “selfish” point in our lives, which I totally agree with.  It’s not that I don’t think about other people or care about other people… but I’m really focused on myself.  I don’t have anyone else to be responsible for right now (except my guinea pig) and it seems to require ALL of my focus just to get ME through the day.  It takes everything I have to budget enough money to pay rent, to make sure I’m wearing jeans without holes in them, to try and maintain a rat-free apartment, to be in a healthy relationships and friendships.  These are all literally issues I’ve dealt with in the last 2 weeks alone and every one of them felt semi-world-ending.  Which is why it feels like every episode of Girls should end with the hash tag #FunnyNotFunny.

We have to laugh, because as soon as it’s not funny, no one wants to watch it.  Not because it stops being entertaining, but because it starts feeling sad.  And embarrassing.  Not for the characters- for us.

In one episode last season, the main character Hannah (Lena Dunham) crosses paths with this hot middle-aged man who lives near the coffee shop where she works.  She wanders into his brownstone one afternoon talking about weird things like using his trash cans to avoid getting in trouble and drinking lemonade with this super ill-fitting romper on while she sits on his Cloroxed kitchen counter.  They end up doing it – like a bunch of times – and playing naked ping-pong.  It’s weird and confusing and probably one of those “really good stories” for both of them.  Then, as she’s about to leave a couple days later, she asks him to ask her to stay.  She wasn’t going to, but she does – she asks him to beg her to stay, so that she could have had a time where someone begged her to stay.  So he does, half-heartedly.  And she stays.  And she talks – about everything.  About what a mess her life is, and how she sometimes (often) doesn’t feel pretty and how anxious she is about how “things will turn out” and all of a sudden, he doesn’t think it’s funny anymore.  And every girl who’s ever opened up just to have someone shut down got it.

We all do it.  Vulnerability is a sticky thing and people have really strong reactions to it.  We want people to open up to us, but it’s really uncomfortable to watch someone be vulnerable.  I experience it most when I’m dating someone.  I ask them to open up and be honest with me, but I also expect them to man up and have their shit together.  I don’t want to hear that they’re “too scared” to apply for a job or “overwhelmed” at the prospect of how their life will turn out.  I want to say “grow a pair and send your DAMN RESUME!”.  Which is a sure way to shut them down.  I think everyone’s guilty of it.  And yet we keep pushing to be vulnerable ourselves, because that’s the only way we get anywhere, the only way we make meaningful connections.  But there’s always the risk of it ‘not being funny anymore’ and getting a big ‘ol wall put up in your face.

Every girl last night got it.  They totally got it.  And even though most of them didn’t know each other before they came over, every single person gave each other a hug before they left.  We didn’t solve anything, or even say anything new.  We just all realized that everyone else “got” a hard thing and then we were friends.  It was cool.

We’re currently in the process of re-scheduling actual book club,  I’ll keep ya posted.

- d