April 29, 2004
I secretly wrote an email to KEXP, one of the most fabulous radio stations ever (and it streams via the internet as well) to see if somehow, I could get permission for my husband to see Air play live in their studio today.
My email was rather cheeky though terribly sincere. It said:
To my surprise, Cheryl from the station wrote me back and said, “Come down today at 2:15.”
We were there at 2.
We sat in the recording booth with the engineer and three other people and that was it. We watched Air play but what was most interesting was all that they said. It’s my understanding that they don’t do a lot of radio interviews or performances and, when doing interview, don’t actually talk that much. But they answered all the questions with so much thought and information, that for Chris, that was the real treat because it was answers to questions he had about his own music and ways of thinking.
He wants to be in music and I think seeing this intimate performance showed him his own possibilities. It made his dream real in a way that it wasn’t before. I told him that this experience felt like the one I had at his age where I met someone who showed me my own dream and made it possible. And look where I am.
What this also taught me was that a lot of people always say, “Why don’t things like that happen to me?” but that they never ask for what they want. I asked to go to the radio station and it happened. I sometimes wonder how many more rock stars we’d have if people didn’t sit and wait for things to be handed to them.
Don’t forget to say “thanks”
I receive a lot of email and most of the time, it’s people asking for advice on making a creative dream real. Sometimes, I’m able to sit down and reply to these emails, offering my experience or pointing the person in a direction of information that might be more beneficial.
To reply to these emails generally takes a lot of time; time that’s not paid, time that’s taken away from work, from my personal life, from rest. But I do it as much as I can because I believe in trying to help others.
But lately, I’ve been less inclined to reply to people because despite answering thousands and thousands of emails over the years, I’ve probably only ever received a handful of “thank-you’s” afterwards.
Some replies I’ve given have been long and detailed, with URLS, research and lots of information. However, I never hear anything back. No thank-you, thanks for the time, this was useful this wasn’t – nothing.
That seems wrong to me.
It’s not that I’m asking for praise, money or a big woo hoo but a simple “thank-you” would be so appreciated. I find that word is lacking a lot in this culture of expectation. I think that has to change.
April 25, 2004
Thanks to spring, insomnia and a realisation, there’s a new design for the first time here at Girl at Play.
It began when I was brewing tea one rather sleepy afternoon (the time when most thoughts seem to come to me). As I was rinsing out the tea pot in the sink, I looked straight ahead at the photograph of me sitting on the Hans Christian Anderson statue in Copenhagen. I took that picture in February 2001 when I was an unhappy executive. I had just come from visiting my cousins in Odense who took me to visit Andersen’s childhood home there. Although I had read his books and poetry since childhood and knew a little of his vagabond ways, it wasn’t until that trip that I became so charmed by him and his life. I remember sitting on the statue thinking, “Oh how I wish to one day have a life like his.”
Little did I know that several months later I’d quit my job and pursue writing.
I hung that picture of him and I up on the wall to remind me of what I would one day like to become; a writer, an artist, a traveller, a speaker, a friend, an enthusiast of life and creativity and in some ways, a comfort. On most days, I’d forget about the picture hanging on my kitchen wall but I’d seldom forget what I wanted to become.
However, when I looked at that picture a couple of weeks ago, the little blond hairs on my arms raised. I realised at that moment that I had done it. I had achieved my goal of having a life like his.
I was now a writer, an artist, a travellers, a friend, an enthusiast of life and creativity and in some ways, a comfort.
Sometimes a person gets so busy being in the process that they never step back and see the results. I, on a lot of levels, still saw myself as this beginner, this girl struggling, trying, one day hoping to make it. But looking at that picture as the tea blew I realised I’m not that same girl I was three years ago; I’m so much more. It was such a surreal moment.
As I sipped my tea I began to think of all the changes that have happened and how they’ve been reflected; my flat is now filled with lots of painted walls, artwork created by me, simple furnishings, lots of flowers and a general sense of ease and happiness. My clothes are also filled with colour, lots of skirts from Anthropologie, ribbons for my hair and bright, beautiful jewellery. Gone are the corporate and stiffed bitter friends, replaced by a bunch of rock stars that inspire me and give me a good ass kicking when needed. Airline stubs clog my bags instead of corporate reports and my books of how to’s are replaced by fun reading and glossy magazines from France. And that’s just a tip of the change.
But the one area things hadn’t changed was on the web. Despite liking the simple design that had been GirlatPlay.com for three years, it no longer reflected who I was. It didn’t have the colour, vibrancy, fun, life, art, confidence or calmness that my work and my life now possessed. I wanted to exude those things because I’m finally catching up with myself.
So on Friday at just a little after 11 at night, I sat at the computer and coded, designed and drank (herbal) tea until 7AM. And this is what I got.
Although the next couple of weeks will surely be bringing tweaks (putting in new pictures so my mug isn’t on every page, adding to the resources and sidebars as well as finding every typo!) for now, I’m rather pleased.
The inside seems to be matching the outside.
April 01, 2004
Someone wrote me and left their web site address which I checked out. On a recent entry they wrote:
When I was younger I spent a great deal of my time doing “art”. I used to sketch, paint, sculpt and take photographs. I was into magazines, advertising and theatre lighting design. Seeing and creating imagery was life giving and I aspired to be a great visual artist. Too bad reality takes over. Why is it so scary and hard to do the things we really love?
I couldn’t help but reply to this and said:
I read your post and I don’t think “reality” takes over. I think we just succumb to the pressure of making “right” choices. And, also as we get older, fear sets in more. We feel irresponsible to do “art” (especially if we loved it as a kid and viewed it as play.) It’s scary because we don’t want to fail at something we love. The truth is, when you do something you adore doing, you do not fail. Ever. I say, do the art – even if it’s just 10 minutes once a week. You’ll feel like a rock star. Really.
March 26, 2004
I just wanted to note that the two entries from the 25th & 26th, while are big things, aren’t the entire picture. Professionally, things are really wonderful and amazing; I’m working on a lot of great projects (writing, travelling, art & photography), I’m in the fortunate position to be able to donate my time and efforts to two charity projects involving artwork, I’m joining forces with someone to write a very exciting travel book (details to come later) and I’m really happy and content with where I am workwise. I’m not struggling anymore, I’m just now enjoying and doing.
Also, I do enjoy my life now. I no longer suffer guilt over the freedom I have, my flat has been transformed to reflect my creativity and I’m generally just really comfortable and happy. So there are no worries that I am sitting disheveled and unhappy and that everything is tragic – it’s not.
It’s just in this area, the area of feeling demands and sometimes pressure, is something new for me and when it creeps up, it’s frustrating. Yes, I delete the emails, Yes I’m OK with the hate mail (oh, I need to write about this as I find it fascinating!), yes there are people who do write nice letters but the demanding, wanting people and the uncertainty of who to trust, well, I’m just learning to deal with that. Doesn’t mean I’ve collapsed or I’m sitting frustrated at the moment. It just means it’s a part of the process that’s there – just like the enjoyment.
March 20, 2004
Someone posted the other day on a list I run a question about how to deal with insecurities and finding their own voice. They said they sometimes felt disheartened when they read other blogs and felt behind. They also mentioned feeling like their window of opportunity was very small and that everything had to be done now.
Here’s what I wrote in response, which might be useful as I think this is a pretty common concern:
For me, I think a lot of my “success” and confidence came because when I first started, there weren’t a whole bunch of blogs on the market; there weren’t people like me writing about what I was doing or wanted to do so I didn’t have anyone to compare myself to. I didn’t know if I was good or bad, on the right track or wrong, if I was behind or ahead. And looking back, I see how valuable that was to me because really, there are no such things as those markers.
No one is 100% unique but everyone can be 100% authentic and I think that is the key. You need to do what you need to do. There are rules you have to follow if publishing is what you want to do so read books to familiarise yourself with that but don’t read what others are doing; you’ll naturally compare yourself which is unfair and has no meaning or validity because their circumstances are not yours and everyone does things differently and at different paces.
I think with so many blogs and web sites, it’s especially hard to not read or look at others works; it’s so easy to click a page and it almost becomes habit. But I think it can be dangerous at first.
Also what you said about the window of oppurtunity is really spot on and I think this is a very common feeling especially when you first start doing something. Like, if you lose momentum you will lose your creativity, your audience, your chance. Not so. The more confident you are in your work, the more relaxed you become about your work which actually, I think, gives you more oppurtunities because you can sit back and really develope your work instead of rushing to get it out before you lose your talent, miss a chance, have someone else beat you, etc. Sometimes you’re not ready for things to happen because they need time to develope, you need time. Its like two years ago I tried to write a book and my publisher said, “We’d like to buy it, but the idea needs to be formulated more. It feels like it’s in it’s infant stages.” And I thought “Oh no, but I have to have IT NOW!”
Two years later, I realise I could really only do that book now. I have a better view point, more experience and a better understanding of the book. If it had been published two years ago, honestly, I would have been embarrassed. I can do something much better and much more real now, because it’s coming straight from me and not what I think I should be.
I think you are authentic and real and you have to trust in that, which is sometimes hard and scary. But, just move forward as you no how to, with little regard for anyone else’s pace. Their shoes don’t take your steps.
Elsewhere