I am a Christmas Nut! I plan gifts and decorations months in advance. I impulse buy all manner of red and green paraphernalia all year long. I have a Christmas Jam playlist - and yes, it even includes N'Sync's 1998 smash hit cd Home for Christmas.
Why is Christmas my FAVORITE time of the year? Duh, it's the Spirit.
It's the peer pressure that causes even the grumpiest of us to take a break from humbugness. It is the one time a year I can, publicly and acceptably, crank Joy to the World to the rafters in my car, roll down my window and get traffic singing along. The Christmas Spirit lifts the weight of the world for so many us. And even under the most dire of circumstances, Christmas makes us happy.
Of course this year, things are different.
As a mom, as a Christian, hell, as a human being, Friday, December 14 has shaken even my over-the-top Christmas Spirit. Friday, December 14 confused and worried me. It made me fearful and sad. And even though I've gone back to happily gifting my way through the season, every time I look at a news site or hear about a memorial service, that gray cloud of confusion floats back onto the horizon.
Like so many of us, I have hung on the news of who, when, why, how. I have soaked up the addresses and responses. I have read, with teary eyes, the poems and tributes written and circulated a hundred different ways. And I am still confused.
I am confused that this is evolving into a conversation about gun control.
I am not a fan of the NRA. I believe the Second Amendment was meant to staff militias that we haven't needed in this country in over 100 years.
I also don't think our government has the right to tell it's responsible, tax paying citizens that they can't own guns. However, surely we can all agree that this is not a case study in a responsible, tax paying citizen owning guns and going nuts with guns, can't we?
Can we not all agree to focus on the illness, rather than the symptom? Are we so blinded by our collective affluence-induced arrogance that we don't get how simple the problem is? I'll give you that I can be simple-minded and unrealistic on any given day, but...
Where is the perfectly simple morality that my parents made sure I got and held onto from kindergarten? Where are the simple rules that have been the foundation of every great society in the world for, well, ever since they were written? Where is the "Thou Shalt Not Kill" in all of this?
I believe that the reason God gave Moses the Ten Commandments is because it is in all of our nature, from the moment of original sin, to do the things that God eventually decided he needed to tell us not to do. I believe that at our basest nature, we might all kill to get what we want. Or steal to make our families safe or happy. God gave us these rules to save us from ourselves.
God recognized that letting our basest nature lead us didn't make for Merry Christmases. It leads to confused and sad holiday seasons.
As a mom, as a Christian, hell, as a human being, I am COMMITTED to making sure my kids understand these most basic of moral codes. They may not understand the Constitution or Gun Control Legislation, but they do and will understand God's Law for us. It's simple, clear and in ten bite-sized pieces.
Finally, I think the best honor I can give and the most healing activity I can perform, is to make this Christmas season about LOVE. Because there is no doubt that LOVE is bright, and healthy and healing. It bears fruits of Gratitude and Graciousness. It yields prayers of Thanksgiving for what we have and prayers of supplication for those that have not.
I will actively LOVE and appreciate those close to me. And I will pray that someone close to the families in Newtown LOVE them like Jesus would.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Gifting
It's Christmastime. The concept of gifting seems pretty clear and simple.
Do you remember, really remember, the joy of finding something you didn't dare ask your parents for under your tree on Christmas morning from Santa? Because I am essentially a 10-year-old girl in a thirty-something year old body, I do. I remember the inability to squelch my high pitched scream when I first laid eyes on that Barbie Dream House.
When I was a child we were poor. We were blessed to never go without food or clothing or the basic creature comforts. But things like Barbie Dream Houses were way out of my league. Rich little girls in big brick houses got those types of gifts. And knowing that money was tight in our house, I would never have burdened my parents with my heart's desire.
But somehow, whether he and Jesus share secrets or he perfected spy cams long before the CIA, Santa knew. He knew that no matter how impractical, no matter how quickly I'd outgrow it, at that moment in my life, I needed a Barbie Dream House to feel special, important and loved.
Before and since that Christmas morning, I have always been a stickler for gifting. No cheating. You have to do the work and get the right gift. The perfect gift. And no guys, that doesn't necessarily mean the most expensive gift.
Here's what the Howard family will be focused on during this Christmas gifting season.
My mother-in-law got tickets to see an Elvis tribute show with her son and grandsons. She couldn't have gotten a better gift. Others in our family will get handmade or personalized gifts made and given with love. And some of us will even get an expensive item or two. Regardless of the price tag, we will be gifting with our hearts and investing in each other so deeply to make this our best Christmas ever.
- Ask/Listen for what loved ones want.
- Go buy what loved ones want.
- Wrap what loved ones want in pretty paper that matches your Christmas tree.
- Gloat over the joy of opening Just What They Wanted on Christmas morning.
Do you remember, really remember, the joy of finding something you didn't dare ask your parents for under your tree on Christmas morning from Santa? Because I am essentially a 10-year-old girl in a thirty-something year old body, I do. I remember the inability to squelch my high pitched scream when I first laid eyes on that Barbie Dream House.
But somehow, whether he and Jesus share secrets or he perfected spy cams long before the CIA, Santa knew. He knew that no matter how impractical, no matter how quickly I'd outgrow it, at that moment in my life, I needed a Barbie Dream House to feel special, important and loved.
Before and since that Christmas morning, I have always been a stickler for gifting. No cheating. You have to do the work and get the right gift. The perfect gift. And no guys, that doesn't necessarily mean the most expensive gift.
Here's what the Howard family will be focused on during this Christmas gifting season.
Loving, and giving a gift to someone, is hard work.
Great gifts don't necessarily cost more.
Just because they want something doesn't mean it's a great gift item.
Joy is the point.
My mother-in-law got tickets to see an Elvis tribute show with her son and grandsons. She couldn't have gotten a better gift. Others in our family will get handmade or personalized gifts made and given with love. And some of us will even get an expensive item or two. Regardless of the price tag, we will be gifting with our hearts and investing in each other so deeply to make this our best Christmas ever.
After all, God didn't ask us for a list before sending his son. And while the price of his gift was the ultimate sacrifice, it was for the joy of our hearts that he gave it and wrapped it in a manger.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Christmas Makes Me Cry
Our house looks perfect. The ribbon in the living room matches the tree in the dining room and wreath on the front door. We have a new 8' snowman standing guard over our yard and a rather large Christmas sock monkey to keep him company. If you come to my house right now, it is clear I have this Christmas thing under control. Heck, my wrapping paper even matches my tree!
So with all of this togetherness, you may be surprised to learn that Christmas makes me cry.
That's right, from Christmas songs on the radio to the pageants and concerts at church, I spend most of the Christmas season weepy and teary-eyed.
I should preface this story with the fact that I am not Catholic. Nor is my heart for Mary based in religion, though I may have come to my understanding of her later than my Catholic friends.
My son was four month's old for his first Christmas in 2002. While as a first time mom I was consumed with cute Christmas outfits and pictures and perfect gifts, at some point I was hit with a deep conviction I had never experienced before. It brought me to sobbing tears and changed how I would see Christmas from that moment forward.
You see in my mind, the Christmas story had always been about God's gift to us - a celebration of gifting. I reserved deep thoughts on faith-focused topics like sacrifice and sorrow for the Easter season.
But this particular Christmas, for the first time, I experienced this season from the perspective of a mother to an infant son. I FELT Mary's heart. And Christmas took on a far deeper sense of sacrifice and sorrow than I ever imagined it could have.
When Hunter was born, the minute he was born in fact, I said a thousand prayers for his future. David and I were filled with all of the hope and happiness in the world. This little bundle of joy could do anything, be anything. He was Potential personified.
I imagined Mary, sitting cold, in pain, afraid and feeling pretty alone in the world, having a very different experience.
First, Mary officially gets the award for the bravest woman in all of history. She listened intently to angels - who by all accounts can be pretty intimidating. She told her fiance the truth of what she'd heard, even though she had to have thought he would have her hauled out and stoned. She got on a donkey and rode cross country, with no thought of shaken baby syndrome or accidental inducement. She just kept moving forward. I don't care who you are, that's incredible bravery.
But, more importantly, she moved forward and gave birth to and raised her little boy KNOWING. She had been told - there was no mystery or imaging in this birth. His path was clear. His life was going to be hard. And he would have to be incredibly brave himself.
I don't know about you, but if an angel had come to me before Hunter's birth and told me that my son would face any of the challenges he faces today, I'd have at least thought twice about bringing him into this world. If I had known for sure people would be mean, life would be too hard and circumstances wouldn't let him grow up to be whatever he wanted to be, I would have paused.
While the Easter season is a clear demonstration of painful sacrifice, I am completely overwhelmed at the Christmas season knowing that this time is a clear demonstration of courageous sacrifice.
Whether Mary knew how her son would die some 33 years later is unclear. As a mom, that thought is unbearable. But she knew enough to know that this child, her child, would be set apart in a way that couldn't be easy for any of them. And she quietly carried herself and her family through the rest of what would be one of the most beautifully tragic stories of all time.
So Christmas carols about a baby in a manger, or the first noel, make me cry. I thank God that my son was born a blank ball of potential and I don't have to bear the responsibility of KNOWING the way Mary did. And I grieve for a mother that had to make such brave choices and changes to let Love come into our world.
In our house, Christmas is as much about sacrifice now as it is about gifts. He may not understand why, but Hunter is compelled to sacrifice some of his gifts each year so that children less fortunate than he can know Christmas happiness too. We spend more time talking about what we will give away this holiday season than what we're getting. And I tear up. Because he won't have to wait until he has his own children to understand the amazing sacrifice in Jesus' birth that was made for him.
So with all of this togetherness, you may be surprised to learn that Christmas makes me cry.
That's right, from Christmas songs on the radio to the pageants and concerts at church, I spend most of the Christmas season weepy and teary-eyed.
I should preface this story with the fact that I am not Catholic. Nor is my heart for Mary based in religion, though I may have come to my understanding of her later than my Catholic friends.
My son was four month's old for his first Christmas in 2002. While as a first time mom I was consumed with cute Christmas outfits and pictures and perfect gifts, at some point I was hit with a deep conviction I had never experienced before. It brought me to sobbing tears and changed how I would see Christmas from that moment forward.
You see in my mind, the Christmas story had always been about God's gift to us - a celebration of gifting. I reserved deep thoughts on faith-focused topics like sacrifice and sorrow for the Easter season.
But this particular Christmas, for the first time, I experienced this season from the perspective of a mother to an infant son. I FELT Mary's heart. And Christmas took on a far deeper sense of sacrifice and sorrow than I ever imagined it could have.
When Hunter was born, the minute he was born in fact, I said a thousand prayers for his future. David and I were filled with all of the hope and happiness in the world. This little bundle of joy could do anything, be anything. He was Potential personified.
I imagined Mary, sitting cold, in pain, afraid and feeling pretty alone in the world, having a very different experience.
First, Mary officially gets the award for the bravest woman in all of history. She listened intently to angels - who by all accounts can be pretty intimidating. She told her fiance the truth of what she'd heard, even though she had to have thought he would have her hauled out and stoned. She got on a donkey and rode cross country, with no thought of shaken baby syndrome or accidental inducement. She just kept moving forward. I don't care who you are, that's incredible bravery.
But, more importantly, she moved forward and gave birth to and raised her little boy KNOWING. She had been told - there was no mystery or imaging in this birth. His path was clear. His life was going to be hard. And he would have to be incredibly brave himself.
I don't know about you, but if an angel had come to me before Hunter's birth and told me that my son would face any of the challenges he faces today, I'd have at least thought twice about bringing him into this world. If I had known for sure people would be mean, life would be too hard and circumstances wouldn't let him grow up to be whatever he wanted to be, I would have paused.
While the Easter season is a clear demonstration of painful sacrifice, I am completely overwhelmed at the Christmas season knowing that this time is a clear demonstration of courageous sacrifice.
Whether Mary knew how her son would die some 33 years later is unclear. As a mom, that thought is unbearable. But she knew enough to know that this child, her child, would be set apart in a way that couldn't be easy for any of them. And she quietly carried herself and her family through the rest of what would be one of the most beautifully tragic stories of all time.
So Christmas carols about a baby in a manger, or the first noel, make me cry. I thank God that my son was born a blank ball of potential and I don't have to bear the responsibility of KNOWING the way Mary did. And I grieve for a mother that had to make such brave choices and changes to let Love come into our world.
In our house, Christmas is as much about sacrifice now as it is about gifts. He may not understand why, but Hunter is compelled to sacrifice some of his gifts each year so that children less fortunate than he can know Christmas happiness too. We spend more time talking about what we will give away this holiday season than what we're getting. And I tear up. Because he won't have to wait until he has his own children to understand the amazing sacrifice in Jesus' birth that was made for him.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Talented Application
Seems like God is weaving a thread made of gifts and talents through our lives right now. From recognizing them, to telling ourselves the truth about them, my family is in a discovery phase.
At this step on our talent trip, we're learning about application. After all, what good is a gift if you don't put it to use?
Any self aware 30 something has long since discovered their talents, right? At least with the obvious ones, we've all probably found the best way to employ them, surely. I certainly thought I knew what I am good at, why I am good at it, and what good I'm supposed to do with mine.
Of course, when you get to where you have discovered your talents, how you're supposed to use them is an entirely other conversation.
One of my talents/hobbies/passions is documenting lives, telling stories. I love, and think I'm pretty good at, collecting and documenting moments for myself and everyone connected to me. From photographs to scrapbooks to...blogs, I am a parliamentarian.
So application of this particular talent is obvious right? My son has had every moment of his life documented. My future daughter-in-law, grand children, great grand children and so on will have a rich picture of life in America in the 2000's. Heck, some archaeologist may someday describe our whole culture based on something cute I wrote to describe some moment of our life. Pretty cool.
But I thought my geeky scrapbooking hobby wasn't really a talent. It was just a way to color, cut and glue my way to relaxation and a legacy. After all, these elementary skills aren't really a talent, right? Everyone learns these skills in kindergarten.
But then the definition and purpose of this talent began to really reveal itself. Parents whose kids were on the same team as my son's got their kids documented. Cub Scouts in our Pack, they all got documented too. And their parents began to tell me they thought differently about recording their lives.
And that turned into conversations about moms needing to pick up a camera and photograph themselves. If you have a husband or significant other that will take pictures of you, great. Mine isn't going to give much thought to it. He loves me, he just thinks it's more important to enjoy me than document me. So I have learned to take pictures of myself because I am an important part of this story too.
A tour of the new Woman's Hospital in Baton Rouge exposed a possible new use of my talent. Someone is helping parents of babies in NICU there scrapbook their families' walk through what is always an emotionally trying time. Therapy scrapbooking!
Now revelations like this are serendipitous. It never occurred to me that my talent/hobby was needed as service in my community, or anyone other than our family for that matter. But now that I see it, it's clear to me that ALL of our talents/abilities/hobbies are needed somewhere in the service of our community.
Maybe your talent is understanding technology. There are not-for-profits doing great things in our community who could use tech counseling to keep moving forward. If your talent is public speaking, there are even more area agencies looking for people to be ambassadors for causes that at least one of which you'd be passionate about.
My talent is an important part of my work, my real job. But it looks like it may be an important part of so much more. Your abilities are too. While what you're good at may have gotten you to a great place professionally and personally, now is the time to start looking for where your talents can help others get to a great place too.
A friend of mine is in a phase of discovery much like mine. She has known for years how to use her creativity talents at work. Now, with her own innovation & creativity counseling gigs, Connie is surprising herself, and her admiring fans, with how wide the application of her talents can spread. In fact, you can learn more at her upcoming event with The Arts Council here https://www.facebook.com/events/122198911270706/
Your talents and abilities are needed. They can be the key to success to solving real challenges in our community. Or, they could be the simple comfort a scared or challenged family of strangers needs to find hope. Either way, you win in sharing and we all win in the miracle your gift creates.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Today
There was an hour long wait at our usually lazy polling place this morning. Hunter was so excited to see all of the people out doing their duty. And as I listened to people in line giving hints to their voting preferences and making their predictions, I was overcome with the significance of our right to vote.
Our right to vote gives us a say in our destiny. It gives us a voice in how we think our country or state or city should be led. But once our choice is made...
After another political season of negative and attacking rhetoric, I can honestly say that all I am is prayerful.
Today I will be in prayer for the man who has had the awesome burden of leading our country through some pretty rough stuff. Our President, whom we the people elected, has carried an incredibly heavy yoke for four years. For that matter, every President in the history of our country has. Few of us can understand the awesome responsibility of having men die under our command. Nor can we imagine the sorrow that seeing those we are charged with leading go hungry or homeless. This is why, even if he didn't earn our vote, our President deserves our respect.
Today I am in prayer that win or lose the Presidency, that Mr. Obama and his family be blessed by the experiences they've had over the last four years.
Hunter reminded me last week that it wasn't very nice of everyone to speak so badly of President Obama, after all, he is our President. And he's right. Regardless of your political position, Barack Obama was appointed and ordained as the leader of our country. And I will stay in prayer for him and his family through today's new test of them.
Finally, on our way to school after voting, Hunter and I discussed whether we should worry about how this election will turn out while we're going about our normal school and work life today. We decided we would instead, be in prayer.
In prayer for these two men and their families. That they find the purpose God has for them in this contest and after.
In prayer for our country. That we will, in fact, stand on In God We Trust, trusting that the outcome of this election will be a perfectly designed and ordained part of God's will for us as a nation.
In prayer for our community. That we will all do our part, cast our vote, and find peace in the outcome.
At the end of the day, I voted for some Republicans. I also voted for some Democrats. And neither of those choices defines me more than the simple fact that I VOTED.
Our right to vote gives us a say in our destiny. It gives us a voice in how we think our country or state or city should be led. But once our choice is made...
After another political season of negative and attacking rhetoric, I can honestly say that all I am is prayerful.
Today I will be in prayer for the man who has had the awesome burden of leading our country through some pretty rough stuff. Our President, whom we the people elected, has carried an incredibly heavy yoke for four years. For that matter, every President in the history of our country has. Few of us can understand the awesome responsibility of having men die under our command. Nor can we imagine the sorrow that seeing those we are charged with leading go hungry or homeless. This is why, even if he didn't earn our vote, our President deserves our respect.
Today I am in prayer that win or lose the Presidency, that Mr. Obama and his family be blessed by the experiences they've had over the last four years.
Hunter reminded me last week that it wasn't very nice of everyone to speak so badly of President Obama, after all, he is our President. And he's right. Regardless of your political position, Barack Obama was appointed and ordained as the leader of our country. And I will stay in prayer for him and his family through today's new test of them.
Finally, on our way to school after voting, Hunter and I discussed whether we should worry about how this election will turn out while we're going about our normal school and work life today. We decided we would instead, be in prayer.
In prayer for these two men and their families. That they find the purpose God has for them in this contest and after.
In prayer for our country. That we will, in fact, stand on In God We Trust, trusting that the outcome of this election will be a perfectly designed and ordained part of God's will for us as a nation.
In prayer for our community. That we will all do our part, cast our vote, and find peace in the outcome.
At the end of the day, I voted for some Republicans. I also voted for some Democrats. And neither of those choices defines me more than the simple fact that I VOTED.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Cool Advertising Tricks
My most recent reminder of how cool advertising is came last week while watching Survivor.
A Degree commercial came on during the show. Now, even though I work in advertising, I am quick to fast forward through a commercial. Unfortunately, I thought at this particular moment, this is live TV and I can't fast forward. What happened next both inspired and excited me.
A bar flashed across the bottom of the running TV commercial that said to push the OK button on my U-verse remote to get a special offer from Degree. What? Was this ad really telling me to do something with my remote and get a response from my TV? You betcha it was!
Really Cool Interactivity
When I clicked OK, the commercial paused and I was taken to a form. Even better, all of my required information was already filled in the blanks, I am assuming based on my U-verse account information. Otherwise, this very smart commercial could not only interact with my remote, but it could also tell it was me, rather than David, my husband, driving this experiment.
The form told me to press OK and that my information would be submitted and in 4 - 6 weeks I would receive coupons and special savings on Degree products in my mailbox.
And, so that this interactive experiment didn't make me miss any of my Survivor episode, the commercial had even paused the program so I could go back and pick up watching exactly where I left off.
What!?! Interactive TV that could respond in real time to wants and demands through advertising AND not keep me from my favorite shows? Holy Heck! This was better than a flying car!
Evolving at the Speed of Light
Of course this is just another of an army of amazing and rapid adaptations that advertisers are demanding, and therefore media are providing, to build direct and intimate relationships with consumers. And yes, I strongly believe that the speed of innovation in the advertising industry is increasing at an amazing rate.
Fueled by a desire, or in some cases a primal need to, compete with the click-and-serve mentality that the web and social media have conditioned consumers to, traditional media are having to find new levels of interactivity to remain relevant and powerful.
This is great news for both advertisers and media. Every company's ideal customer is out there, somewhere. Getting to them may not be easier, but the depth that an advertiser can reach into some one's pocket can be deeper than ever before, empowered by new and creative media solutions.
There's an App for that
Whether it's apps on your phone, or your TV, new types of radio contests, or networking events and advertising options for B2B companies, the ante is being raised.
This also means that advertisers have to evaluate so many more options - making actually running the business they're trying to market more difficult.
The other recent cool points reminder came from a group of 10-year-olds in the back seat of my SUV last week. As I was ferrying the boys to a football game, I heard them arguing over a game on their phones. Disclaimer: Yes, 10-year-olds have iPhones and Yes, I think that's crazy. As I listened closer, I realized what they were trying to solve. They were trying to match logo elements to their respective companies! The game is called Logo Quiz and it is every advertising professionals proof that this marketing stuff works.
Pop Quiz
Basically, the kids are given an icon, or even part of an icon, and they have to answer with the right company. As I listened to these boys rattle off brand after brand correctly, I was struck by how, at age 10, they were already so advertising indoctrinated.
Here's a sample of a Logo Quiz. Would you have been able to guess them all?
Advertising is not only cool, it's now pop culture quiz worthy!
The great news about all of this rapidly evolving ad technology and play is that the advertising professionals I know and work with are evolving just as rapidly. From social media to mobile manipulation, today's advertising professionals know more, can do more and can offer more than ever before.
I always caution potential advertisers to make sure that cool new advertising options make sense for their business before jumping into them. If you have to see your clients face to face to do business, even Facebook might not be the right marketing venue for you. But any really professional advertising expert will tell you that.
Because at it's heart, even with it's flying-cars-cool new apps, advertising that builds any relationship, especially the kind that create sales, is about building trust. Between a brand and it's customers, advertising has the responsibility to create chemistry. And any woman will tell you when it comes to chemistry, a slow built burn is always hotter than a quick hot flash.
A Degree commercial came on during the show. Now, even though I work in advertising, I am quick to fast forward through a commercial. Unfortunately, I thought at this particular moment, this is live TV and I can't fast forward. What happened next both inspired and excited me.
A bar flashed across the bottom of the running TV commercial that said to push the OK button on my U-verse remote to get a special offer from Degree. What? Was this ad really telling me to do something with my remote and get a response from my TV? You betcha it was!
Really Cool Interactivity
When I clicked OK, the commercial paused and I was taken to a form. Even better, all of my required information was already filled in the blanks, I am assuming based on my U-verse account information. Otherwise, this very smart commercial could not only interact with my remote, but it could also tell it was me, rather than David, my husband, driving this experiment.
The form told me to press OK and that my information would be submitted and in 4 - 6 weeks I would receive coupons and special savings on Degree products in my mailbox.
And, so that this interactive experiment didn't make me miss any of my Survivor episode, the commercial had even paused the program so I could go back and pick up watching exactly where I left off.
What!?! Interactive TV that could respond in real time to wants and demands through advertising AND not keep me from my favorite shows? Holy Heck! This was better than a flying car!
Evolving at the Speed of Light
Of course this is just another of an army of amazing and rapid adaptations that advertisers are demanding, and therefore media are providing, to build direct and intimate relationships with consumers. And yes, I strongly believe that the speed of innovation in the advertising industry is increasing at an amazing rate.
Fueled by a desire, or in some cases a primal need to, compete with the click-and-serve mentality that the web and social media have conditioned consumers to, traditional media are having to find new levels of interactivity to remain relevant and powerful.
This is great news for both advertisers and media. Every company's ideal customer is out there, somewhere. Getting to them may not be easier, but the depth that an advertiser can reach into some one's pocket can be deeper than ever before, empowered by new and creative media solutions.
There's an App for that
Whether it's apps on your phone, or your TV, new types of radio contests, or networking events and advertising options for B2B companies, the ante is being raised.
This also means that advertisers have to evaluate so many more options - making actually running the business they're trying to market more difficult.
The other recent cool points reminder came from a group of 10-year-olds in the back seat of my SUV last week. As I was ferrying the boys to a football game, I heard them arguing over a game on their phones. Disclaimer: Yes, 10-year-olds have iPhones and Yes, I think that's crazy. As I listened closer, I realized what they were trying to solve. They were trying to match logo elements to their respective companies! The game is called Logo Quiz and it is every advertising professionals proof that this marketing stuff works.
Pop Quiz
Basically, the kids are given an icon, or even part of an icon, and they have to answer with the right company. As I listened to these boys rattle off brand after brand correctly, I was struck by how, at age 10, they were already so advertising indoctrinated.
Here's a sample of a Logo Quiz. Would you have been able to guess them all?
Advertising is not only cool, it's now pop culture quiz worthy!
The great news about all of this rapidly evolving ad technology and play is that the advertising professionals I know and work with are evolving just as rapidly. From social media to mobile manipulation, today's advertising professionals know more, can do more and can offer more than ever before.
I always caution potential advertisers to make sure that cool new advertising options make sense for their business before jumping into them. If you have to see your clients face to face to do business, even Facebook might not be the right marketing venue for you. But any really professional advertising expert will tell you that.
Because at it's heart, even with it's flying-cars-cool new apps, advertising that builds any relationship, especially the kind that create sales, is about building trust. Between a brand and it's customers, advertising has the responsibility to create chemistry. And any woman will tell you when it comes to chemistry, a slow built burn is always hotter than a quick hot flash.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Drive Thru Service
It was one of those weeks. You know, the kind, that only half way through it, getting struck by lightning was clearly in the forecast. At every turn, people were letting me down, ticking me off, trying what little patience I possess.
And then I met Mark.
Working in sales for so many years has not conditioned me to keep my cool when a company messes up when serving me. However, it has conditioned me to recognize that great customer service shines brightest when there's been a mistake. Mark was a pleasant reminder of the latter.
Between running around to school, football, cub scouts, camping trips and Halloween Parades, not to mention my real job, I had let the "CHANGE ENGINE OIL SOON" light on my car blink for two weeks. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I finally got around to dropping my car off at the dealership, Gerry Lane Enterprises. After all, part of why I bought my soccer-mom SUV from them is because they do free oil changes for life - that's great service from the get go.
Right on time, Mark from the service department called at 3:30 to let me know my car was ready to be picked up. I told him I'd be by after work and he said he would leave my keys at the front sales desk.
At 4:30 Mark called back. "Do you happen to have your extra set of car keys with you now?" he asked. No, I answered, they were at my house.
"Are you able to run by and get them before you come and pick up your vehicle?" he pursued. As I quickly did the math in my head, I told him there was no way for my husband to pick up my son from football, pick me up at work, go to my house and get the keys and make it to the dealership by 7pm, when they close for the night.
Turns out that one of the service technicians who worked on my car inadvertently left work with my car keys in his pocket. Worse, he was now in New Orleans in a training class.
Mark was not my friend any more. I was unhappy, and not very subtle about being so. This sucked. I had to have my car back. I had to be able to get Hunter to school and myself to work in the morning. How dare their mistake make my life anymore hectic this week? Why me Lord?
Mark stayed cool. He immediately came up with a plan B. Long story short, I was able to go straight from work to the dealership, pick up my car and go have a nice peaceful dinner with my boys. and, as I stated in the beginning, he put a positive spin on the rest of my week.
Here's what Mark did right to turn me into one of his biggest fans:
So while it took a mix up and my losing my temper, just a little, to meet and appreciate Mark, I'm glad I did. His excellence is another reminder that HOW we serve our clients and customers matters. And when faced with an unhappy one, how we answer for our mistakes matters as much or more than all of the times we simply work to their expectations.
And then I met Mark.
Working in sales for so many years has not conditioned me to keep my cool when a company messes up when serving me. However, it has conditioned me to recognize that great customer service shines brightest when there's been a mistake. Mark was a pleasant reminder of the latter.
Between running around to school, football, cub scouts, camping trips and Halloween Parades, not to mention my real job, I had let the "CHANGE ENGINE OIL SOON" light on my car blink for two weeks. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I finally got around to dropping my car off at the dealership, Gerry Lane Enterprises. After all, part of why I bought my soccer-mom SUV from them is because they do free oil changes for life - that's great service from the get go.
Right on time, Mark from the service department called at 3:30 to let me know my car was ready to be picked up. I told him I'd be by after work and he said he would leave my keys at the front sales desk.
At 4:30 Mark called back. "Do you happen to have your extra set of car keys with you now?" he asked. No, I answered, they were at my house.
"Are you able to run by and get them before you come and pick up your vehicle?" he pursued. As I quickly did the math in my head, I told him there was no way for my husband to pick up my son from football, pick me up at work, go to my house and get the keys and make it to the dealership by 7pm, when they close for the night.
Turns out that one of the service technicians who worked on my car inadvertently left work with my car keys in his pocket. Worse, he was now in New Orleans in a training class.
Mark was not my friend any more. I was unhappy, and not very subtle about being so. This sucked. I had to have my car back. I had to be able to get Hunter to school and myself to work in the morning. How dare their mistake make my life anymore hectic this week? Why me Lord?
Mark stayed cool. He immediately came up with a plan B. Long story short, I was able to go straight from work to the dealership, pick up my car and go have a nice peaceful dinner with my boys. and, as I stated in the beginning, he put a positive spin on the rest of my week.
Here's what Mark did right to turn me into one of his biggest fans:
- He COMMUNICATED both the error and the solution. Mark didn't wait until I got to the dealership and make the sales manager on duty deal with me. He called me the minute he noticed my keys missing. And when he told me what we were up against, he also gave me more than one solution so I could choose the most convenient for me. He was determined to make this right.
- He REMAINED COOL under pressure. He knew they'd made a mistake. And by the tone of my voice when he informed me of it, he knew I was hot. But Mark wasn't going to let my displeasure keep him from his goal - fixing the problem and keeping me a happy Gerry Lane customer.
- He TOOK RESPONSIBILITY for his team's actions. Mark wasn't the one that headed to New Orleans with my keys. He probably wasn't the one who actually changed the oil in my car. Nor was he the person I turned my keys over to when I checked it in to begin with. What Mark did so gracefully was not pass the buck. In fact, I don't even know the name of the tech who had my keys. This was Mark's department, his responsibility, his customer and he was going to take full ownership of both the error and its answer.
So while it took a mix up and my losing my temper, just a little, to meet and appreciate Mark, I'm glad I did. His excellence is another reminder that HOW we serve our clients and customers matters. And when faced with an unhappy one, how we answer for our mistakes matters as much or more than all of the times we simply work to their expectations.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
The truth about the trombone
Hunter was REALLY excited about playing in his school band for the first time. Even when given a choice of art, choir or band, he chose band. He even made it clear that if he had to, he would give up football to be in the band.
Even better, he announced, he knew exactly what instrument God built him to play. The flute.
We encouraged Hunter to continue to try all of the instruments and at least come up with a Plan B. So grudgingly he did and chose the drums.
Until band instrument assignment/rental night.
David and Hunter came home from what was supposed to be a happy manly bonding adventure looking both confused and unhappy. What had gone wrong? Where was the final choice that would mean many sleepless nights in the Howard house?
Somehow, Hunter's Plan B had been shifted to Plan C, he would be playing the trombone.
The trombone? Where did that come from?
"I don't know, I was terrible at the trombone in auditions. I couldn't even make a sound on it. I want to quit band."
I immediately did what any over-involved mom would do. I called a conference with the band teacher. I was bound and determined to find out where this villainous trombone had come from and why was it destroying my son's love of band.
Long story short, turns out Hunter was SUPER in his trombone audition. Better than the flute, or even the drums, Hunter SHINED in two separate auditions on the trombone. Go figure, my kid's a trombone prodigy!
Just kidding, but really, he had done really well on the trombone, earning two separate Super evaluations.
So why had he told me such a completely different story about his trombone auditions and assignment and why did he hate the trombone so much he wanted to quit band?
Turns out that Hunter was suffering from a case of poor self evaluation. You know what I'm talking about. It's like when you check yourself in the mirror before you leave in the morning, admiring how nice you look today, only to get to work and have someone point out the huge zit on your forehead you never noticed.
Hunter had done to himself what so many of us do, unintentionally, to shortcut our own success and happiness - he had misjudged his own talent and performance.
Thank God for the truer insight often given others into our purpose, abilities and performance. If Ms. Smith hadn't had the discernment to hear Hunter's trombone potential, he would have happily blundered along on the drums, never knowing he was built for better on another instrument.
When we explained to Hunter how Super he had done on the trombone and that we all really thought he should play it, he was THRILLED! He wanted to know if we could go buy his trombone right at that moment! Tragedy averted! Band was back on the new adventures list.
What a wonderful way to accept constructive criticism!
If only I had the humility and openness to hear those God put to speak into my life with such trust and enthusiasm. How much sooner or more easily would I have grown to where I am if rather than wrestling with the "They don't know me" and "Who do they think they are" moments of life, I had embraced them.
What if, when those with more wisdom or insight than I pointed out the drums I shouldn't be playing while directing me to the trombone I would excel at, I would be THRILLED to find deeper understanding of my real purpose and power.
I never age in my mirror. I don't see the toll the years have taken on my face. It makes perfect sense when people tell me "You haven't aged a day since high school!". But my brain really knows better than to believe my mirror or such platitudes.
So I resolve to make growing up easier on my self from here forward, to be at least as wise and brave as my 10-year-old and excitedly embrace good guidance towards my life's true and best purpose.
How about you? Do you have a moment when you realized your brain had tricked you into believing something not quite true about yourself that was holding you back? Please share!
Even better, he announced, he knew exactly what instrument God built him to play. The flute.
We encouraged Hunter to continue to try all of the instruments and at least come up with a Plan B. So grudgingly he did and chose the drums.
Until band instrument assignment/rental night.
David and Hunter came home from what was supposed to be a happy manly bonding adventure looking both confused and unhappy. What had gone wrong? Where was the final choice that would mean many sleepless nights in the Howard house?
Somehow, Hunter's Plan B had been shifted to Plan C, he would be playing the trombone.
"I don't know, I was terrible at the trombone in auditions. I couldn't even make a sound on it. I want to quit band."
I immediately did what any over-involved mom would do. I called a conference with the band teacher. I was bound and determined to find out where this villainous trombone had come from and why was it destroying my son's love of band.
Long story short, turns out Hunter was SUPER in his trombone audition. Better than the flute, or even the drums, Hunter SHINED in two separate auditions on the trombone. Go figure, my kid's a trombone prodigy!
Just kidding, but really, he had done really well on the trombone, earning two separate Super evaluations.
So why had he told me such a completely different story about his trombone auditions and assignment and why did he hate the trombone so much he wanted to quit band?
Turns out that Hunter was suffering from a case of poor self evaluation. You know what I'm talking about. It's like when you check yourself in the mirror before you leave in the morning, admiring how nice you look today, only to get to work and have someone point out the huge zit on your forehead you never noticed.
Hunter had done to himself what so many of us do, unintentionally, to shortcut our own success and happiness - he had misjudged his own talent and performance.
Thank God for the truer insight often given others into our purpose, abilities and performance. If Ms. Smith hadn't had the discernment to hear Hunter's trombone potential, he would have happily blundered along on the drums, never knowing he was built for better on another instrument.
When we explained to Hunter how Super he had done on the trombone and that we all really thought he should play it, he was THRILLED! He wanted to know if we could go buy his trombone right at that moment! Tragedy averted! Band was back on the new adventures list.
What a wonderful way to accept constructive criticism!
If only I had the humility and openness to hear those God put to speak into my life with such trust and enthusiasm. How much sooner or more easily would I have grown to where I am if rather than wrestling with the "They don't know me" and "Who do they think they are" moments of life, I had embraced them.
What if, when those with more wisdom or insight than I pointed out the drums I shouldn't be playing while directing me to the trombone I would excel at, I would be THRILLED to find deeper understanding of my real purpose and power.
I never age in my mirror. I don't see the toll the years have taken on my face. It makes perfect sense when people tell me "You haven't aged a day since high school!". But my brain really knows better than to believe my mirror or such platitudes.
So I resolve to make growing up easier on my self from here forward, to be at least as wise and brave as my 10-year-old and excitedly embrace good guidance towards my life's true and best purpose.
How about you? Do you have a moment when you realized your brain had tricked you into believing something not quite true about yourself that was holding you back? Please share!
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Zombie Slackers
One of our favorite fall activities is Baton Rouge' family friendly Halloween Parade. My dear friend Kelley Stein created this fun event to help celebrate her favorite holiday and raise money and awareness for some important causes in our community. You can learn more about her group and the parade here http://1031consortium.com/
Getting ready for the parade lets our family's inner artists run wild. We line our fences with float sized vinyl sheets and paint our themed float decorations for Cub Scouts Pack 205's float. Late each night, by the light of a projector, we, and occasionally some friends, get our Picasso on.
Last year's float was Where the Wild Things Are themed. We were pretty proud of our pièce de résistance. Of course, we also set the bar pretty high for ourselves in future years.
That was before it rained overnight and washed our hard work away. Turns out chalk sketches on vinyl don't hold up in the rain.
And while David and Hunter were distraught at having to start completely over, I was not.
1. The only part of the design I worked on, and liked, I had taken the time to prime. I had done my homework, realized I only wanted to have to paint my design once, and so I took every precaution to make sure it STUCK. So even my sketched outline was still there after the rain, because I had properly prepared the surface.
2. I wasn't thrilled with David and Hunter's edited version of my original idea. My zombies were on a mission, encouraging viewers to vote in the upcoming elections. Their zombies were just zombies for zombies sake. They were without a purpose. No wonder they got washed away.
Now I'm not sure if the do-over will mean that Hunter and David's zombies will get with my program. And I'm not saying that God sent a cleansing rain to wipe clean these zombie slackers. However, I do think their washing away illustrates two really important life lessons.
1. Preparation pays off.
My purposeful zombie, properly sketched on well primed vinyl, withstood what nature had to throw at it. It took me longer to get my dutiful zombie up, but I will spend less time on him in the long run because I started with a plan to create a lasting image.
So whether it's a project or presentation at work, or parade float vinyl, our best and most fruitful work depends on our preparation, our priming of our canvas.
Incidentally, had David been better focused on his preparation, he would have covered his chalk sketches for the night, because we encountered this exact same problem last year. How quickly we forget!
2. All the preparation in the world won't get you far without Purpose.
I know it's a bit of a stretch, but if Hunter and David's zombie's had known what they were made for, maybe they would have fought harder to stick around. While their creators were lacking in the preparation department, the zombies themselves were easily washed away without a purpose for being, a raison d'être.
If you ever want a great lesson in the power of both preparation and purpose paying off with big results, watch children trick or treating.
Ask a 10 year old the importance of the size of the trick or treating bag, bucket or pumpkin. Hunter won't even go out without a container big enough for 3 pounds of candy and treats. He anticipates the big haul, so he makes sure he has the right equipment to handle it.
Ask a kid the best neighborhoods to trick or treat in. They can tell you. And they will give their parents directions to make sure they're getting the most out of their trick or treating time. No wasting time on blocks where no one's home - they've got limited time and mean to make good use of it.
And on Halloween night, as you sit in your driveway welcoming the little beggars, or as you follow your own herd of them through the streets, you will have no doubt in your mind that kids can be both purposeful and passionate about work when they see the Reese's at the end of the trail.
Speaking of Reese's, what candy do you always make sure to steal, I mean requisition, out of your kids' haul each year?
Getting ready for the parade lets our family's inner artists run wild. We line our fences with float sized vinyl sheets and paint our themed float decorations for Cub Scouts Pack 205's float. Late each night, by the light of a projector, we, and occasionally some friends, get our Picasso on.
Last year's float was Where the Wild Things Are themed. We were pretty proud of our pièce de résistance. Of course, we also set the bar pretty high for ourselves in future years.
This week, we began designing, sketching and painting our float wrap. In fact, in one night, we were able to sketch, in white chalk on black vinyl, the entire design of one side of the float. All we had to do was paint in the colors.
That was before it rained overnight and washed our hard work away. Turns out chalk sketches on vinyl don't hold up in the rain.
And while David and Hunter were distraught at having to start completely over, I was not.
1. The only part of the design I worked on, and liked, I had taken the time to prime. I had done my homework, realized I only wanted to have to paint my design once, and so I took every precaution to make sure it STUCK. So even my sketched outline was still there after the rain, because I had properly prepared the surface.
2. I wasn't thrilled with David and Hunter's edited version of my original idea. My zombies were on a mission, encouraging viewers to vote in the upcoming elections. Their zombies were just zombies for zombies sake. They were without a purpose. No wonder they got washed away.
Now I'm not sure if the do-over will mean that Hunter and David's zombies will get with my program. And I'm not saying that God sent a cleansing rain to wipe clean these zombie slackers. However, I do think their washing away illustrates two really important life lessons.
1. Preparation pays off.
My purposeful zombie, properly sketched on well primed vinyl, withstood what nature had to throw at it. It took me longer to get my dutiful zombie up, but I will spend less time on him in the long run because I started with a plan to create a lasting image.
So whether it's a project or presentation at work, or parade float vinyl, our best and most fruitful work depends on our preparation, our priming of our canvas.
Incidentally, had David been better focused on his preparation, he would have covered his chalk sketches for the night, because we encountered this exact same problem last year. How quickly we forget!
2. All the preparation in the world won't get you far without Purpose.
I know it's a bit of a stretch, but if Hunter and David's zombie's had known what they were made for, maybe they would have fought harder to stick around. While their creators were lacking in the preparation department, the zombies themselves were easily washed away without a purpose for being, a raison d'être.
If you ever want a great lesson in the power of both preparation and purpose paying off with big results, watch children trick or treating.
Ask a 10 year old the importance of the size of the trick or treating bag, bucket or pumpkin. Hunter won't even go out without a container big enough for 3 pounds of candy and treats. He anticipates the big haul, so he makes sure he has the right equipment to handle it.
Ask a kid the best neighborhoods to trick or treat in. They can tell you. And they will give their parents directions to make sure they're getting the most out of their trick or treating time. No wasting time on blocks where no one's home - they've got limited time and mean to make good use of it.
And on Halloween night, as you sit in your driveway welcoming the little beggars, or as you follow your own herd of them through the streets, you will have no doubt in your mind that kids can be both purposeful and passionate about work when they see the Reese's at the end of the trail.
Speaking of Reese's, what candy do you always make sure to steal, I mean requisition, out of your kids' haul each year?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
As I sit writing a quick note to some awesome folks who are being honored by Sales & Marketing Executives here in Baton Rouge, I am struck with why I haven't blogged before.
Writing is something I've always loved to do. However, it's always been very personal. From hand written notes of thanks or congratulations, to dozens of journals full of scribbled observations and moments, writing has always been a very private affair for me.
Facebook isn't writing, it's notifying, sharing. Twitter, even less so. And yet, how quickly social media, even for an intimate writer like me, has changed what writing is.
When was the last time you sent a handwritten birthday card? Compare that to the last time you made a Happy Birthday Facebook post. Guiltily, I admit the latter was yesterday and the handwritten variety, well, it's been a hectic few months.
While this blog is a meatier narrative than my timeline, it still shortcuts the real beauty of a hand written note, the handwritten part.
In his new book, The Missing Ink, Philip Hensher laments our departure from hand writing far more eloquently than I ever could.
"We have surrendered our handwriting for something more mechanical, less distinctively human, less telling about ourselves and less present in our moments of the highest happiness and the deepest emotion. Ink runs in our veins, and shows the world what we are like. The shaping of thought and written language by a pen, moved by a hand to register marks of ink on paper, has for centuries, millennia, been regarded as key to our existence as human beings."
Surrendered? Ouch. That's convicting. You should read more of his book, he makes the art and act of writing sexy, intimate, familiar and intense. He has reminded me why I LOVE WRITING.
In fact, eerily, I have said for years that I love my work in print advertising so much because I have ink and paper in my veins.
If you need anymore proof that your handwritten notes, even short ones, will mean more to others than any facebooked Happy Birthday, then ask a Baton Rouge advertising professional if they remember Ralph Sims.
Ralph was arguably one of the last great gentlemen of our industry. He was beautiful, and strong and courageous and kind. And he wrote the most amazing handwritten letters.
I fell in love with Ralph while serving on the board of directors of AAF Baton Rouge in 2006. I called Ralph to ask him to email me a brief write up of why he had been active in our club for more than 40 years.
Ralph replied that he could not email the statement I asked for. He didn't have a computer. Fine, easy enough, I asked that he fax it to me. Once again, he politely declined my request. He didn't have a fax machine. He requested that I come by his house the next day to pick up his statement. Really? Drive over and pick up his statement?
Long story short, the beautiful hand written letter he handed me, on his personal stationary, sits in my desk to this day, long after Ralph himself has left us.
Boom! There it is. This amazing man's words, and spirit, will live on long after an email would have been archived or deleted, a fax would have been thrown away. Ralph's grace is the perfect example of why writing should always be, well, writing.
I've already broken my first thought on how this blogging thing will turn out - yesterday I thought I'd only blog once every four years. I wouldn't dare search for the technology that would let my blog be handwritten, that would be pure torture.
Instead, I will promise to send at least one handwritten note for every post I make here. That should slow me down some, and hopefully stymie the draining of my soul into the keyboard used to compose these musings.
And you? Can you be seduced with an embossed or gilded or brightly colored note card to write someone? I hope so. And I'd love to hear who you wrote and why.
Writing is something I've always loved to do. However, it's always been very personal. From hand written notes of thanks or congratulations, to dozens of journals full of scribbled observations and moments, writing has always been a very private affair for me.
Facebook isn't writing, it's notifying, sharing. Twitter, even less so. And yet, how quickly social media, even for an intimate writer like me, has changed what writing is.
When was the last time you sent a handwritten birthday card? Compare that to the last time you made a Happy Birthday Facebook post. Guiltily, I admit the latter was yesterday and the handwritten variety, well, it's been a hectic few months.
While this blog is a meatier narrative than my timeline, it still shortcuts the real beauty of a hand written note, the handwritten part.
In his new book, The Missing Ink, Philip Hensher laments our departure from hand writing far more eloquently than I ever could.
"We have surrendered our handwriting for something more mechanical, less distinctively human, less telling about ourselves and less present in our moments of the highest happiness and the deepest emotion. Ink runs in our veins, and shows the world what we are like. The shaping of thought and written language by a pen, moved by a hand to register marks of ink on paper, has for centuries, millennia, been regarded as key to our existence as human beings."
Surrendered? Ouch. That's convicting. You should read more of his book, he makes the art and act of writing sexy, intimate, familiar and intense. He has reminded me why I LOVE WRITING.
In fact, eerily, I have said for years that I love my work in print advertising so much because I have ink and paper in my veins.
If you need anymore proof that your handwritten notes, even short ones, will mean more to others than any facebooked Happy Birthday, then ask a Baton Rouge advertising professional if they remember Ralph Sims.
Ralph was arguably one of the last great gentlemen of our industry. He was beautiful, and strong and courageous and kind. And he wrote the most amazing handwritten letters.
I fell in love with Ralph while serving on the board of directors of AAF Baton Rouge in 2006. I called Ralph to ask him to email me a brief write up of why he had been active in our club for more than 40 years.
Ralph replied that he could not email the statement I asked for. He didn't have a computer. Fine, easy enough, I asked that he fax it to me. Once again, he politely declined my request. He didn't have a fax machine. He requested that I come by his house the next day to pick up his statement. Really? Drive over and pick up his statement?
Long story short, the beautiful hand written letter he handed me, on his personal stationary, sits in my desk to this day, long after Ralph himself has left us.
Boom! There it is. This amazing man's words, and spirit, will live on long after an email would have been archived or deleted, a fax would have been thrown away. Ralph's grace is the perfect example of why writing should always be, well, writing.
I've already broken my first thought on how this blogging thing will turn out - yesterday I thought I'd only blog once every four years. I wouldn't dare search for the technology that would let my blog be handwritten, that would be pure torture.
Instead, I will promise to send at least one handwritten note for every post I make here. That should slow me down some, and hopefully stymie the draining of my soul into the keyboard used to compose these musings.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Inspiration?
I used to think there were geniuses out there in the world. You know the brilliant first guy who really believed we could fly. Or the first woman who imagined she could vote. You know - the Steve Jobs of the world.
As I grew, I worked really hard to have my epiphany, to come to my one world changing idea or creation, the one everyone would remember me for. Surely I was meant to have at least one moment of pure genius in my life.
Then I decided I had lots of original thoughts, just not ones big enough to set the world on fire. Surely my perspective on or use of some obscure craft product was original. I had to be the only one in the world who could make gift wrap out of left over toilet paper roles, right?
Now? Now I've glommed onto the completely unoriginal excuse to reinvent, reappropriate and reinterpret everything around me and take credit for it that goes, "There's nothing new in the world, just a new way to use/present/purpose the same old stuff." It's distasteful even to type it, but it sure takes all that spark of genius pressure off of me.
This post is the direct result of that kind of inspiration, not of the divine nature, but of the contextual type.
Four years ago, I had the itch to blog, to put down all the bizarre and, occassionally original or so I thought, things rolling around in my head. And, like so many hobbies I've loved, I created my blog... and never wrote a single post.
Not a single post.
Until today. Today a dear friend emailed me a link to her blog post. And after reading it, I was in tears. The story she told, I knew. And I certainly had already come to the point of her post on my own years ago. But her words, her perspective on a story I'd heard and never been brought to tears by before, moved me. I shared her story, not because her thought was original in all of the world, but because it was beautiful.
http://conniemcleod.wordpress.com/2012/10/06/soul-mates-and-angels/
So, the grammar is terrible - I'll get around to fixing that. The only thing I am sure of is the title of this thing, whatever it's going to be, is still appropriate. And after reading Connie's post, and wiping my tears and snotty nose, the only thing that felt right was to give her credit for inspiring me to write something down. To be inspired by her inspiration.
I'm not committing to consistency, or even grammatical correctness. I don't know if I'll be inspired to write a single nother word after today. But hey, who couldn't love a blog you only had to commit to reading once every four years?
As I grew, I worked really hard to have my epiphany, to come to my one world changing idea or creation, the one everyone would remember me for. Surely I was meant to have at least one moment of pure genius in my life.
Then I decided I had lots of original thoughts, just not ones big enough to set the world on fire. Surely my perspective on or use of some obscure craft product was original. I had to be the only one in the world who could make gift wrap out of left over toilet paper roles, right?
Now? Now I've glommed onto the completely unoriginal excuse to reinvent, reappropriate and reinterpret everything around me and take credit for it that goes, "There's nothing new in the world, just a new way to use/present/purpose the same old stuff." It's distasteful even to type it, but it sure takes all that spark of genius pressure off of me.
This post is the direct result of that kind of inspiration, not of the divine nature, but of the contextual type.
Four years ago, I had the itch to blog, to put down all the bizarre and, occassionally original or so I thought, things rolling around in my head. And, like so many hobbies I've loved, I created my blog... and never wrote a single post.
Not a single post.
Until today. Today a dear friend emailed me a link to her blog post. And after reading it, I was in tears. The story she told, I knew. And I certainly had already come to the point of her post on my own years ago. But her words, her perspective on a story I'd heard and never been brought to tears by before, moved me. I shared her story, not because her thought was original in all of the world, but because it was beautiful.
http://conniemcleod.wordpress.com/2012/10/06/soul-mates-and-angels/
So, the grammar is terrible - I'll get around to fixing that. The only thing I am sure of is the title of this thing, whatever it's going to be, is still appropriate. And after reading Connie's post, and wiping my tears and snotty nose, the only thing that felt right was to give her credit for inspiring me to write something down. To be inspired by her inspiration.
I'm not committing to consistency, or even grammatical correctness. I don't know if I'll be inspired to write a single nother word after today. But hey, who couldn't love a blog you only had to commit to reading once every four years?
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