Sarah Gowher and I had been connected on LinkedIn. She posted about tacos, and predictably, I responded. This is how all the strong connections in history are made. Everyone from Brad Paisley, Will Smith to Nostradamus would agree.
I found that Sarah’s story has a lot to love in it.
Finding confidence, getting support from peers and moving ahead – that’s the theme in Sarah’s journey. I love that. I feel like many of you will find parts of her tale to identify with. She has confident mindfulness with hope for what’s next.
A creative mind is a kind of mushy not often found in this world.
Not in a ‘this apple is too old to eat’ kind of way. More in a, ‘you can’t sit on a plate of flan or you’ll flatten it’ kind of way. It’s malleable in all the right ways, and when it’s healthy and strong, the best stuff comes shooting out of it.
Yeah, like sparklers.
Like a new pair of glasses or first-edition Chewbacca figure, it’s best to keep a creative mind protected 24-7 in the box it came in. But what fun is that? And what function? Just don’t sit on your glasses. Or lose Chewie’s crossbow.
No, that’s not a redundancy, although it kind of is. Moms do make the world go ‘round. You know I love moms. I feel like moms read this blog. Did you know when I started, I thought, I’m going to write a blog that dads and dudes will read and follow and love.
Yeah, right, a cohort said at the time.
It’s going to be women who read you, she was saying. Moms, mostly. They’ll identify with you and share your stuff with each other. They’ll share with their men, too, but mostly, the men won’t listen. They’ll wish their men were a bit like you.
It’s going to be tough to claim victory in this one.
I’m days behind, trying in vain to catch up for the A to Z challenge. I wanted to write about vulnerability today, harkening back to some meditation fog observation I’d made about stepping in from the vestibule of life and really opening yourself up.
Me preaching the virtues of vulnerability would be like me spelling out the benefits of Valerian Root for menopausal symptoms.
I haven’t ventured out of the vortex of my comfort zone like that in ages. I’d be a villain to write that post. I wrote about valentine’s day once, the day after valentine’s day. This wasn’t long after Madison decided not to play for the Converse College Valkyries.
I don’t have time for all this! But also, I’ve been given 24 hours to figure out how to do it all – that’s a lot of time! (I also think about Michelle Gingras, Stonehenge, and Havarti cheese, but that’s for another post.)
What’s left in the middle is that time is time, there’s no time like the present, you can’t make new time, and it’s time to go. Also, I might not have time to finish this post until tonight, which is sorta like getting to the fair 10 minutes before it packs up and hits the road.
The stars aligned with the big L on the forehead today, didn’t they? Today’s must-reads take on a couple of sticking points and problem areas. They’re good reads, though. I hope you get as much out of them as I did.
When I feel that self-esteem taking kidney punches on the ropes, I duck and cover and pray for the bell to end the round.
No, not showbiz. The newspaper biz. Usually, you can tell by the scuffed shirt cuffs and clothes bought in 1986. Used. Not in this case, though. Esther Robards-Forbes and I both worked for the Charlotte Observer back in the day.
She’s now in public relations at the University of Texas.
We had a conversation years ago that would have been one of the earliest #GirlsRock interviews. Instead, it sat in drafts, like those old archive rooms back in the newsroom. It was an awesome find for me.
Separately. Then together. We didn’t know where to go for a realtors event. It had a speakeasy theme. I haven’t been in a speakeasy since 1931. Neither one of us dressed the part, either.
There was plenty of gangsters and flappers, but Kristen and I were so 2019. (Well, 2017, for me. Forgive me. I’m a dad.)
We found our way eventually to the right room, although we bumbled into the wrong one first. This place had better food, to be honest. And I met with a coaching colleague of mine, and suddenly, Kristen found herself being introduced to someone she didn’t know.
Love them, in fact. Not the screamy ones. Not those that scream a phone number 3,296 in 30 seconds. And not those that play the worst music ever imaginable to grab my attention.
I like funny, relatable commercials.
Sometimes, it’s for Jiff Peanut Butter. Sometimes, it’s a new drug with 3,296 side effects. Sometimes, it’s a hilarious commercial about appliances dying, with a grim reaper and adorable actor hitting her knees and begging for mercy.
Strike that. Writing is like a river. No, doesn’t feel right. Writing is like … well, something you have to peel back sometimes. And it’s also something that flows, sometimes beyond its banks, but can never really be stopped.
So maybe writing is like an onion river.
In any case, today’s #GirlsRock guest knows a very specific art of writing: The resume. That sneaky thing we prance about when we’re unhappy at work or … out of a job. It’s the key to everything, yet we often treat it as an afterthought.