sabbatical week 2 + 3

It's mind boggling to think that the first month of my sabbatical is over. There is a tiny part of me that is filled with anxiety at all that I haven't accomplished. I haven't even touched my business plan, still haven't whipped this blog into shape, continue to labor over the ending of my book, and haven't solved all of the world's problems. Screw empowering anxiety. Let's put doubt aside and focus on what I have gained. 

It's not true that things remain dormant in the winter. Do you remember that personal growth I mentioned a few weeks ago? Tiny buds of change have taken root inside me and are threatening to full-on bloom like a motherfucker. I no longer wake up in the middle of the night with new items for my work to-do list or in a cold sweat from worry that some politico is going to kill my project. There has been no festering anger over someone's stupid decision, and the vise (aka stress) gripping my heart has released its hold. Don't get me wrong, I'm not like many of you who dream of quitting your "day job" or escaping the "cubicle". I don't have a cubicle, and I freaking love what I do. I eat stress for dinner and convert it to fuel...to action. Still, it can be tiring and unhealthy.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've let go of the proverbial reins, handing them off to capable coworkers. I fill with a mama-like pride I didn't think possible as their brief texts or emails come through with tasks from my to-do list that they've knocked out of the park and have passed on the opportunity to review reports I'd previously planned to make sabbatical time for. These may seem minor to you, but if you were in my heart, you'd know just how huge these are.

Instead, there has been Russian-themed birthdays and dancing and snow. I've sewn my first quilt, watched four documentaries (all awesome), finished House of Cards, and laughed at Jim Gaffigan. I've written chapters and thousands more words and consumed copious cups of coffee. I've even made time for real life things working 50+ hours a week hasn't allowed for--like doctor's appointments and calling the IRS and talking to new men (I think you call it online dating).

I've got roughly four more weeks left. Let's see what we can make happen!

sabbatical week 1: care and upkeep of me

Tomato soup is simmering in the crock pot, and I've been watching The Flying Nun for the past hour, not a bad way to wrap up the first week of my sabbatical. I gave myself this week to ease into it--no big goals, no alarms to wake me up in the morning, and no writing. Having spent the last week leading up to my sabbatical writing a big grant proposal, I needed to give my brain a break. Kindness shouldn't just be reserved for others. Give yourself a break.

Thanks to Scarlet, I caught up on the first two seasons of Game of Thrones (and then proceeded to curse her for getting me hooked). I cooked hearty, winter meals (root veggie barley risotto [meh] and tortellini sausage soup [so good]) and whipped up these amazing energy balls. I got into The Goldfinch, was able to record a couple of episodes of Friday Night Dinner, and saw I, Frankenstein. My apartment finally got its first good cleaning since before my staff retreat in December (hey...I was out of town or working super long days) and spent some time on a few home projects. Finally, I had a few lovely people over for dinner, cocktails and good conversation.

Week 1 has been good.


Added the newest bowl to my collection, the purple and blue pottery by Roger Allen.




Created a loop to hang my uke from after realizing I'm not quite ready for this lovely investment.


New shower curtain and rug. I loved the solid white, but it was so difficult to maintain!


Friday night dinner guests. Everyone was tired, so they'll likely hate this photo, but I the moment needed documenting. :-)

A year to be proud of

Twelve months ago I threw down the gauntlet, declaring that 2013 would be the year I would spend less time consuming and more of it creating. I would give the ideas on that personal to-do list a home in the real world. Judging from my watching and reading lists I posted yesterday, you would think I slipped, that I was conquered by all of the books clamoring to be read, but you would be so wrong. I managed to find time. Granted, I gave things up and chose to make sacrifices. My gym attendance got spottier and spottier the further we got into the year, and I pretty much gave up meal planning and cooking for the week by the time we got to June. Also, despite my love of good TV, I couldn't tell you what happened on Breaking Bad and only know the Dexter spoilers because of a podcast. I missed Orange is the New Black, Orphan Black, and House of Cards, and I couldn't talk to you about Betty Draper.

In their place, yes, I read more books, but I also created two podcasts. They may not be professionally recorded or perfect, but we created them. They are getting better and better, and for that, I'm proud.

I also wrote an essay and submitted it for publication. While the publication wasn't the right choice for this particular work, actually writing and submitting it was the goal. It scared the crap out of me to do it.

I wrote 95% percent of my first novel and definitely surpassed my 50,000 word count goal. It's not done done, but I'm counting it!

I developed a business idea (a bit strange for me) and began drafting a business plan.

We finally filmed a sequel to Reader's Advantage (to be edited in January 2014).

Yes, this year was a good one that was filled with family, friends, and travel. I can only pray that the new year will be as good.

December Daily 01

Jireh, one of my local coffee shops.

I decided to participate in December Daily on a whim today. I'm not really a create an album kind of girl (much admiration, very low commitment), but I feel particularly compelled to commit to something that will force me to slow down and take the time to soak in my surroundings this month. Earlier today, I sat in front of my computer, hyperventilating a bit over everything I need to get done in the next 30 days, and realized that there is no time for Christmas or the magic of the holidays in all of my plans. Much of this stress is over the fact that I begin a two-month sabbatical in 31 days. This means that I need to wrap up/assign/get to a good place all of my work that needs to continue without me during January and February. This doesn't even take into account that they're asking a control freak (me) to trust other people to handle my babies (projects). Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly blessed, lucky, etc. that my organization offers me this opportunity, and it will be amazing. However, the days leading up to it? Panic attack material, my friends.

Anyway, I probably won't be putting together an album, but I do want to take and blog at least one photo every day this month as a way to remind myself to find and create some magical moments amid all the craziness that December brings.

November is my favorite month!

This is not one of those annoying posts where I apologize for not writing. I really dislike those posts. This, instead, is a post wherein I tell you about November.

For starters, it's my birthday month, and if you get anything from the early years of this blog, it's how much we dig birthdays* around here. I've also got a few other things on my mind this month, including finalizing plans for a two-month paid sabbatical that starts at the beginning of January. Holy cow! I really don't know how this control freak is not going to work for that long.

As you can see from the badge above, I'm also doing the whole NANOWRIMO thing for the second year in a row (motivation to write this post = procrastination). I'm cheating a bit because my goal is to finish the first draft of the novel I started last year at this time. Rather than get all weird about it, I just found it helpful to spend this month concentrating on writing (and limit any overthinking). This book will likely be well over 50K words, so don't think I'm taking it easy on myself.

My third goal for this month is to finish writing my first business plan. I'm going to be ridiculously vague, but basically, I feel like I have a good idea worth turning into an actual thing. I (and people I've talked to about it) think it's a good enough idea to warrant an actual plan.

So, yeah, November holds good things. I'm thankful. Very, very thankful. Now to schedule in some sleep.


*However, unless you are in my current immediate circle, I am horrible about remembering dates. I need you to be the kind of friend who reminds me, and then I'll make it as special as possible.

Oh to be as wise as Wendell Berry

“It may be that when we no longer know which way to go that we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.” ― Wendell Berry

On being happy (the anti-self help post)

Toward the end of August, Tara Gentile sent the following question out into the universe.

Is the work you're doing today the kind of work you want to be known for?
— Tara Gentile (@taragentile) August 29, 2013

My heart screamed 'hell yeah'; however, before I could hit reply, I stopped myself.

I can't write that. People will think I'm humblebragging. Everyone on the Internet seems to hate their job and wants to escape the "9-to-5". Who am I to love my work? No one wants to hear about you feeling good about what you do.

Thankfully, my tough, sassy side prevailed and said screw that.

Sometimes I feel like the Internet is filled with people on the verge of midlife/quarterlife crises, writing about the need to compete with people's seemingly perfect online lives, Facebook depression, escaping their cubicle jobs working for the man, finding themselves, blogging burnout, etc. Trust me, I get it. I do. But, it's crazy to think that I should feel guilty about loving my job and that I want to keep kicking butt and taking names. No more!

Marianne Williamson says it best...

"...We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."

I may not make a lot of money, but I thank God every day for allowing me to do what I do. Even on the shittiest, most stressful of days, I know the challenges keep me sharp and creative and that I get to make a positive impact in the world. When one of my big projects wrapped up a couple of years ago, I got a little teary (I get a little teary a lot) because I realized that, if I were to die right then, I would be okay. I'd seen something through to completion. I'd done something* to change the world for the better. That felt a bit like freedom.

It's not about bragging. It's about being thankful, joyous. It's about showing others that it's okay to be happy.

So, yeah, the work I'm doing is something I'm happy to be known for.

What work are you proud of that you want to shout from the rooftops?

*This isn't to say that I'm complacent or don't dream of bigger, better, more. Far from it!

 

Hustler seeking friends for wacky ideas

This may be the look Steven sometimes gives me when I say I have an idea.

 My mind is almost always* whirring at 100 mph, spinning from idea to idea. [In fact, I just stopped writing this post in order to add things to my grocery list that I thought of in the shower.] I'm pretty okay with this--minus the sometimes ADD-like hopping around from task to task at work. I like being the kind of person who is interested in a lot of things and is constantly thinking of things to do, try and see.

It's my friends you should feel sorry for. I'm a hustler who is always recruiting for these ideas. Just this week alone I've emailed, texted or talked to my friend Scarlet about (1) the social media plan we're writing for our favorite bar, (2) what we should name the orchestra we're going to start, (3) mixing music for Ravena's and my book podcast, (4) doing a short film with my friend Jim for a Corcoran contest and (5) a new place we should check out in Fairfax. Just. This. Week. She's not even my only victim. I'm constantly pushing my latest podcast finds (Let's Make Mistakes and Snap Judgement) on Ravena and pulling her into things like our own podcast and photoshoots and coffee hunts. It's to the point where my friend Steven gives me the Serena-and-her-ideas look (usually Scarlet gets it to because we've usually banded together). 

I think I may need to recruit more friends, so that I don't wear these guys out. Any takers? :-)

*Except when it isn't. There are certainly days when the flashing red meltdown lights begin to flash, and my brain begins dumping information like the crew of a sinking ship trying to bail water.

My story as told by water, part IV

As light ebbed from the cobalt evening sky, I thought not about the damp bangs, pasted to my forehead by the humid, post-storm air, or the inky darkness that began to envelope us. Instead, my attention was solely focused on the gentle whir of the cast net as it sailed through the air, its splash as it met its mark on the Choptank River and the notion that this might be one of the coolest, weirdest Friday nights I’ve had in a while.

I try not to talk about work a lot on here, but every now and then I'm just so thankful or blown away by an experience that I can't stop myself. Friday was one of those experiences. Spring is spawning season for migratory fish, and once the water starts to warm up a bit, herring, shad and other migratory fish begin to make their way up rivers along the coast looking for a little loving. 

When the guys from Maryland DNR asked if I wanted to come help collect herring eggs [to grow baby (technically fry) herring to stock other rivers], how could I say no?

Standing along the banks of the Choptank, we cast about on the hunt for the elusive female herring whose eggs were ripe. The window can be incredibly narrow; also, it was really hard to type the word 'ripe'. We fished this 25-foot section of the river for more than three hours and only found two females who were ready to get down. The male herring were plentiful.

What came next was far more ritualistic (even spiritual) than the laboratory exercise I imagined. I kept thinking I'd be taught some kind of fertility chant (I wasn't). Seated on nearby rocks and lit by headlights on the state truck, both roe and sperm were milked from the few herring collected and combined in a stainless steel vessel. One of the guys stirred this strange mixture with a turkey feather while river water and a special powder were added. This process continued until only the fertilized eggs remained in the river water. These were moved to their new nursery (aka a sealed plastic bag and cooler-type contraption) and immediately driven by a third member of the team to their temporary home at one of the state hatcheries.

As I watched the truck speed away, I couldn’t help but feel even more alive, maybe even a bit more womanly (yes, a little odd). I silently bid these new little herring farewell and promised to keep fighting to make their new home in the Patapsco River as hospitable as possible.

lately

1. DryBar as part of continued birthday celebrations for Scarlet
2. Steven's concert
3. DC on my way to Maryland
4. Calm before the storm; empty classroom before a Johns Hopkins University presentation
5. Maryland Board of Public Works meeting during "snowquestration"

Roots, or proof that chronic bitchface is hereditary

I'm obsessed with this photo my mom picked up from my great aunt this weekend. It's my grandma's side of the family circa 1864. My mom's been researching the family history, and I'm not sure she's aware how into it I am.

This is the McMillian clan, and evidently, they were proficient at childbearing (wasn't everybody?). The great grandma I knew briefly growing up is on the front row, second from the left. I spent quite a bit of time looking at all of the ladies and trying to see if I could find any of myself in them. Know what is apparent? The lineage for my chronic bitchface goes way back. ;-)

Proceed at your own risk, otherwise known as my path for 2013

According to the great Google, free is (among other things) to be able to act or do as one wishes or without cost or payment. Free time, then, should be that period of time where you can do whatever you want with little regard to cost. However, cost, particularly to the multifaceted among us, cannot be ignored. As someone who enjoys pursuing many different things, there are inherent tradeoffs I make on a daily basis when I decide how to spend my free time. 

Once my adult chores* are taken care of, every hour not spent at work is mine for filling with all of the things, people and activities I love. This, my dears, is the glory and selfishness of choosing to remain childless. I spend much of this time in the role of consumer or creator**. I am a pop culture and history fiend, and as such, curling up on the couch with a good book or settling into a dark theater for a movie or play recharges me. Articles and essays inspire and educate me. I take in. I consume, cramming my brain with more, more, more. This, however, leaves little time for creating things of my own, for turning the scraps of paper and ideas stored in the dark reaches of my brain into actual things. This is my tradeoff.

2012 was a very good year, but in this new year, I want to flip the equation. I'm not coming up with official resolutions, but my focus for 2013 is going to be on creation. Let's see what we can make happen!

*Cleaning, bill paying, errands, meal planning. What? You don't call them chores?
**There are also the roles of giver and doer, but I'm not going to address those, since I spend roughly 50 hours a week giving and doing at a nonprofit in exchange for a meager salary. Passion versus profit, my friend.

December in West Texas

I'm currently home in Texas enjoying the holidays with my family. While I'm here, I've been sure to gather stories, think about goals for 2013 and work on finishing that book I started writing.

See you in the new year!

Life's too short...

From A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

“I hate all those flirty-birty games that women make up. Life’s too short. If you ever love a man, don’t waste time hanging your head and simpering. Go right up to him and say, ‘I love you. How about getting married?’”

                                                                                                                              - Francie’s mom

I have a collection of quotes in the notes section of my phone. This is a new favorite and seemed appropriate on a day when we're all reflecting on the brevity of life. One day, this will be my story, and I'm very okay with that.

On re-reading that embarrassing diary

There is no more humbling experience than looking back through past diary entries.

After seeing a “tweet” a couple of weeks ago from @amytschubert on pruning her archives, I found
myself revisiting my own early posts. Immediately, I was surprised to discover that I’ve kept this blog, posting off and on, for roughly eight years. Whoa.

I also quickly discovered how annoying the Serena of eight years ago was*. This space has always been a personal journal and place to tuck all of those thoughts and opinions away. Still, I found myself cringing at how much I whined and complained. I’m not talking about the political or social rants (I still stand by those) and am, instead, talking about the posts on people upsetting me or how tired I was or apologizing for not blogging. I painted such an unhappy picture of myself when, I know for a fact, I was having a blast.

While the little historian and archivist living inside me cringed a bit, I decided then and there that I was overdue for a little purging of my own. Even though the purging isn’t complete, it seems appropriate that I record the lessons I’ve learned or been reminded of.

• I used to go to a lot of concerts and listened to some mighty fine bands.
• Sometimes the extra money made working two jobs isn’t worth it. I contend that 90% of my perceived unhappiness at that time can be attributed to the fact I was sleeping roughly 3 hours a night and was constantly tired.
• Lots of goals, very little follow through. Finish things, McClain.
• Cut some of the younger folks a little slack in Twitter and on their blogs. Turns out, you were just as annoying as they can be. Everyone needs an opportunity to grow.
• That said, constantly complaining and apologizing for not blogging is a no. Keep it authentic, and don’t be afraid to be transparent with your feelings on occasion. That should be mandatory. However, just stop apologizing for not blogging, complaining about not blogging, etc.
• Looking back, the posts I’m the most proud of really do reflect the things I still enjoying writing about the most.

*Yeah, yeah. I’m still annoying. Whatever.

When you're too busy for a summer manifesto

Thank you, Scarlet, for living by Moo Thru and telling me about its existence. Yum!

As May wound down, I started thinking about writing a summer manifesto like I saw popping up all over the web.The idea of putting a little thought into how I wanted to spend the summer appealed to my love of lists and desire to enjoy the season.


Unfortunately, my summers tend to be chaotic affairs driven by crazy work deadlines, and this summer has been no different. Already I've spoken at a conference, held innumerable "urgent" meetings, released a 40-page report, blah, blah, blah. Remember the leisurely drive I was going to take up to Amherst for a conference at the beginning of June? Leisurely turned into "just get there as fast as you can" because of meetings and obligations that piled up on either side. I haven't gone swimming or popped over to the beach (even for just a day). I've missed two concerts whose tickets I've had for months. Needless to say, I never got around to penning that summer manifesto.

Who cares?! Despite some added stress, summer moments are meant to be stolen, and I've become a champion at savoring those little pockets of time. Enjoying the perfect summer cone. Stealing away to a matinee with a friend when a meeting ends just early enough. The summer buzz of a birthday celebration. Small town charm and the summer outdoor concert.

I'm also going to give the leisurely road trip another shot in a couple of weeks. I've got another conference (this one in Saint Paul, MN) coming up and am planning some fun stops along the way. Ohio, I'm looking to you to serve me up an antique mall or two. I'm also digging around online to find a watering hole in Minnesota to escape to for a couple of hours. I want to be realistic about places to stop (I do need to get there) but still want all the suggestions you can throw at me.

How Twitter can make you a better person

Twitter is slowly helping me become a better person. Who knew this tool could become a beacon, the lighthouse standing strong on the Internet's shores warning me what not to do?

Do you complain continually about your children and how horrible your life is, only to flip the switch and wax poetic about your consumerist pursuits? Thank you. You help me to cherish my life and how genuinely happy that I am. You also convince me to cut back on my online complaining. I'd hate for people to think that I'm as unhappy as you appear.

Is every tweet out of your mouth a humblebrag? Thank you. You keep me grounded and my ego in check. You remind me that the flip side of complaining is sometimes talking about how great you are.

Have you ever tweeted more than once about how much your feet smell? Thank you. I appreciate the reminder that sometimes there should be limits to what we share, particularly if it's done without humor.

Do you make me laugh, share uplifting quotes and pass along articles that fuel my passion? Thank you. You give me something to shoot for and make me want to be better.

So, Twitter, thank you for all you show me. I'm still making plenty of these same mistakes myself, but it's fun to learn not to ;-)

Girl behind the mask

I'm the kind of girl who...

• becomes anxious at the sight of a bug and has to pull on her big girl pants to kill it
• has to put on her magical blinders to ignore the aforementioned bugs when traipsing around outside for work
• (oddly enough) considers skirts and flip flops appropriate field attire for said traipsing
• can't seem to stop wearing clothes until they disintegrate
• keeps a messy car but a clean house
• doesn't think she'll ever truly love cooking because it just takes too much darned time
• has developed a desire for workshop space and a saw over the past couple of months
• decides she wants a new exotic pet every time she sees one in a movie
• saw Magic Mike and now wants a tiny pet pig (after Juno it was a rabbit)
• favorite song came out in 1993

Reason #234 you shouldn't DIY everything

I've been itching to change my hair. It's usually around this length that I start wanting to chop it off, only to find long styles I want to try after the fact. Instead, I got a little cocky this weekend and decided a DIY ombre.

After whipping up a beverage and getting my tools ready, I went back to the Internet for advice. Ya'll, those YouTube videos are dangerous! They left me feeling empowered and in control. Snort. In all the heady madness, I forgot how temperamental my hair is. Ombre on others ended up a bit trailer park* on me. In an attempt to salvage my hair, I ended up back at the store today for more bleach. Might as well go all in.



I didn't intend to spend so much of my weekend on my hair or wind up with it so close to blonde!

P.S. Is anyone else participating in Ali Edward's Week in the Life? 

*I'm allowed to say that if I spent a tiny portion of my youth living in a trailer, right?

confessions of a skeptic

You guys...can I tell you something? I just don't think I'm cut out for online dating.

Let's set aside the potential for accidentally choosing a serial killer or the fact that I'm expected to start a conversation with a complete stranger based on maybe five paragraphs of text (and these are not small concerns, people). Instead, I find my biggest stumbling block is how incredibly judgmental I get when confronted with a virtual catalog of mail order-like dates. I've always prided myself on not having a strict list of things I need in a man, but when confronted with the exact opposite, I suddenly have a whole cornucopia of deal breakers.

What have I learned by having a profile up on OkCupid?

Basic reading comprehension is a valuable life skill. The prompts in a given profile offer you an opportunity to point out things about your beliefs that may be important to you. Wouldn't you read these things, particularly if you have deal breakers of your own? Within the past two months, I've received exploratory emails from (1) someone who clearly states he will never, ever (no matter how hot) date a democrat (democrat/progressive is stated in my profile) and (2) an agnostic who emails me to say I might qualify to hang out with so long as I'm not one of those "god clowns". Why would you send this to me when I self-identified as christian and said it was important to me?

There is only so much baggage a girl can overlook. I'm not perfect, so I try really hard not to look for Mr. Perfect. However, a girl can only ignore so many red flags. This progressive series of red flags is from one person. He had moved back home as he tried to get his life back together. Okay, I'm not an elitist. Oh wait, he doesn't drive anymore because of a car accident six months ago. I can deal. I don't own a car, so who am I to judge? Actually, he doesn't drive anymore because he suffers from an anxiety disorder. Umm...I'm not sure I want a fixer upper. Finally, he starts to talk about how much of a sinner he is, apologizes for not being a virgin, and proclaims that I am the woman to save him. Bolt. I have enough of my own issues and am in no way meant to be a man's savior.

I have basic grammar needs and am especially fond of capitalization and punctuation. I am not a grammar nazi and, in fact, consider those that think of themselves above the fray pretty freaking annoying. Everyone makes mistakes, and it's easy to fall behind on the latest changes to the grammar rules. Still, I can't handle text-speak. I have no problem with throwing in "u" every now and then and am a frequent abuser of OMG, LOL, and BTW. I have discovered, however, that I will have an aneurysm when confronted with entire messages written without capitalization, punctuation, and a tendency to write things phonetically.

I haven't even told you about the 5' 3" guy whose profile indicated an interest in bondage, the potter who talked about himself for 2 hours straight, rarely pausing to ask anything about me, or the couple looking for a third.

These are the days of our live.