This morning I came up with a novel concept for this blog, inspired by my growing addiction to Twitter: brevity. Instead of brain-dumping almost every post, I’ll say everything I need to say in as few words as possible. This is a good thing. :) (If I have long posts, they’ll be well thought out, not just ramblings.)
This also means that my posts here will move from being mostly informational to being an experience. If that doesn’t make sense, keep reading this blog and it will before long. :) We’re aiming for pith and wit, folks. Here goes…
Being a writer who loves telling stories, every once in a while I can’t help but wryly think that my job is basically to tell lies. I could go around fibbing my heart out and call it career development, honestly. ;) I mean, what do I say when they ask the honesty question in the temple recommend interview? “Mostly, but I spend most of my free time lying. Is that okay?”
But wait: Jesus was a storyteller.
Okay, I guess we’re good. :)
Time management is hard. And I’m now starting to accept that I’m not really all that good at it. My inbox is perpetually chock-full (more than usual, too — 252 emails at the moment, all needing to be replied to), and while I do get a decent amount of stuff done, there’s always so much more. I’m a month behind on replying to blog comments.
About the only thing I have been able to keep up with lately is this blog (after a not-so-hot period) and Twitter. Twitter’s lovely because it’s only 140 characters and takes all of 5–30 seconds. (Granted, most of the emails I have to reply to would only take 5–30 seconds to reply to as well, if I just learned how to be more concise. And Twitter’s helping me do that. Seriously, Twitter’s making me a much better writer.)
Anyway, I’m going to blog soon about an epiphany I had regarding simplicity and getting stuff off my plate. And how it’s been devilishly hard to implement.
This whole productivity/time management thing, by the way, is a topic I keep coming back to because it’s a dragon I do battle with regularly. Still haven’t figured out where it’s weakness is so I can slay it once and for all. At the core, it’s a question of how to figure out (a) what’s important and (b) how to make time for what’s important, but also (c) how to deal with everything else.
Generally I let things get to a crisis point and then deal with emergencies as they arise. Or when I’m feeling completely stressed out, I read a book or watch a movie and let things slide (like emails). I do feel vaguely guilty about it, like I ought to be replying to emails instead of indulging in entertainment, but at the same time I have to recharge my batteries. And the inbox gets fuller.
Mostly ramblings today, I’m afraid. I’ll try to have a more coherent post when I write up that epiphany…whenever I find the time to do it.
For a very long time — seven years at least, if not longer — I haven’t worn t-shirts except for when sleeping. I tried a couple times but felt that t-shirts just weren’t me.
I was wrong. Sort of.
Those t-shirts weren’t me. But today at WordCamp Utah I got a nice American Apparel t-shirt with WordCamp on the front, and holy cow, it fits! And it feels so good. I’d forgotten that t-shirts can feel this way.
So it wasn’t that t-shirts and I weren’t meant to go together; it’s just that the few t-shirts that I tried didn’t fit, that’s all. They were always too big, making me feel frumpy and skinny, and I must have subconsciously gotten the idea that all t-shirts were the same. I’m glad to learn I was wrong. :)
Now, why’d I have to figure this out just before winter sets in and it gets too cold to wear t-shirts? Seriously. :) Last year I finally bought shorts and flip-flops and felt comfortable wearing them…and then it snowed. Talk about luck. Anyway, there’s always next summer…
The Big Picture (at the Boston Globe) has some incredibly touching photos in honor of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month:
Families, caregivers, charities and research groups across the United States are observing September as Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. In the U.S., over 12,000 children under the age of 21 are diagnosed with cancer every year, approximately 3,000 of them will not survive the disease. A diagnosis can turn the lives of a family upside down — days suddenly filled with alternating moments of courage, frustration, boredom, anxiety and pain. The objective of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month is to put a spotlight on the types of cancer that largely affect children, survivorship issues, and — importantly — to help raise funds for research groups working towards cures (links below images). Here are a few recent photos of families, all dealing with childhood cancer in their own ways.
Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it.
[tags]Childhood Cancer Awareness Month[/tags]
So Washington Mutual crashed a couple hours ago. This string of bank failures is getting unsettling to say the least. (If you’re wondering what’s going on, Freakonomics has a good layman’s explanation.)
And can I just say that Paulson’s plan is creepy? “Without limitation”? “May not be reviewed”? Crazy.
The other day I read about Beethoven’s kiss:
The great Hungarian concert pianist Andor Földes tells the remarkable story of the watershed moment in his rise to world renown. He was 16 years old and already a veteran of years of intense practice and performance. The pianist Emil von Sauer, Franz Liszt’s last surviving pupil, came to Budapest and asked young Andor to play for him. Having listened intently to him playing Bach’s Toccata in C Major, von Sauer requested another piece. Andor put all his heart and skill into playing Beethoven’s “Pathetique” sonata, then continued with Schumann’s “Papillons.” Finally, after a long pause, von Sauer slowly rose, took the young man’s head into his hands, and kissed him on the forehead. “My son,” he said tenderly, “when I was your age I became a student of Liszt. He kissed me on the forehead after my first lesson, saying, ‘Take good care of this kiss–it comes from Beethoven, who gave it to me after hearing me play.’ I have waited for years to pass on this sacred heritage, and now I feel you deserve it.” (From Andor Földes, “Beethoven’s Kiss,” Reader’s Digest, November 1986, 145.)
Andor Földes rose to the expectation. Beethoven’s kiss miraculously lifted him from the high level at which he was performing and put him on a level of real greatness. The incomparable greatness and uniqueness of Beethoven survives in many ways, but none more personally or more powerfully than through the mentoring of those touched by this kiss symbolic of his greatness and uniqueness.
There’s a tremendous power in mentoring, in someone great reaching down to lift up the small fry. It’s incredible. Whether or not we become masters in our field, there will always be those with less experience than us. Will we be like Beethoven, or will we ignore the young and the new and instead revel in our self-deceiving façade of superiority?
Life isn’t a race, and no man is an island. The better way, to me, is to reach out and help everybody. Then we all rise together.
So, I’m a sucker for cashmere cardigans over button-down collared shirts. On girls, that is. It’s the single most attractive outfit I’ve ever seen. Not sure why — maybe because it’s feminine and soft but also classy and semi-professional? I don’t really know, but my goodness, it’s magic. Here’s what I mean (courtesy of IMDB):
The violin doesn’t hurt, either. :P
Two years ago my watch died. I’d had it for nine or ten years, a cheap black watch that didn’t cost more than $10 if I remember correctly, but it was a trooper. After it went the way of wall watches, I just used my cell phone. And that worked pretty well.
But it’s not very subtle to have to pull your phone out of your pocket in the middle of a meeting just to check the time. Having a watch on your wrist is much more convenient. And so last week I bought a watch.
I’m utilitarian when it comes to watches and wanted something with as little bling as possible. Preferably black. Definitely no gold. (Can you imagine me with a grill? I can’t.) When I was at the mall last week, I stopped by Macy’s to see what watches they had (couldn’t find any watch stores anywhere) and when I found that the cheapest was $65, I quickly made my exit.
Last week I checked the watches at the bookstore on campus and found that they had a nice selection for only $14.99. An ideal price for a watch, I think. So I found the one with the least bling that still had legible hour faces (I prefer digital but they were all analog), and now I’m wearing a silver watch that has the kind of wrist band that pinches your arm hairs. I’m trying to tell myself that I’m cool with that. (The arm hairs, not the silver.)
The interesting thing I’ve noticed since donning the watch is that I feel ten or twenty years older. It’s as if wearing a silver watch somehow graduated me to adulthood instantly. Weird. But I do have to say that I like it. I’ve always wanted to be older than I am. :)
My magazine, Mormon Artist, is now on Twitter: http://twitter.com/mormonartist. I’ll be posting relatively frequent updates on how the magazine’s going, so if you’re interested in keeping up with it, follow away.
If you’re not on Twitter, you should, you know, change that. :)