Happy Monday, my sweet friend. I've been meaning to write for some time now. After all, my year anniversary with Seattle has come and gone, and I need to reflect. How have I tracked against my goals? What have I learned? How have I grown? What's next? There's always a next, but first, here's a recap.
I did lock myself out of the apartment. However, I beat the over under of seven months and made it over a year, which I count as a win. I also managed to keep my high school nickname a secret for over six months, and even now, only three carefully selected individuals know the humiliating story. I'm definitely a connector, and I consistently tell my friends they're in a rough spot if I ever find a significant other to take trips with me.* And OMG - I found friends with boats!! Or at least friends with friends who have boats. Regardless, boats are in my life on a semi-regular cadence.
I fell on my face. Literally. One of my sister's friends recently got married. The two of them worked together prior to dating, and one of their earlier interactions was lip syncing at the holiday party. What a cute story. This year, I too participated in a holiday lip syncing contest, but instead of meeting my soul mate, I did a back flip in a conference room with no gymnastics experience and ended up with a massively bloody nose. The whole scenario seems on brand.
Y'all. I got myself a mentor. Arguably, I got myself three mentors. Not all of them are aware, however. The covert adoption went something like this: "Yes, Anna, you should discuss this with your mentor." "Okay, great, so I'm going to discuss it with you. Thanks."
I climbed a mountain. Of course, in true Anna fashion, I turned to my co-worker the day before I left and said, "Do I really need all the gear on this list?" He took pity on me and let me borrow his gear rather than being taken advantage by REI. When my friends picked me up the next morning, they were surprised I actually came at 5 AM. But I did. We hiked to the base camp of Mt Baker, and I spent the evening watching the sun set above the clouds surrounded by majestic mountain peaks. We woke up at 1 AM, hiked six hours to the summit, and breathed the fresh air of accomplishment. Then we hiked back down to base camp, packed our tents, and returned to civilization, breathing in the occasional stale stench of heated crap, because apparently, you have to go to the bathroom in a bag and bring that bag back down the mountain. I'm all about conserving the environment, but this was an aspect of camping I was not aware of prior to this trip. It was worth it, and the guides awarded me the best mountain sleeper of all time. I snored. I snored a lot.
I popped a cyst. Imagine the worst pimple in high school; multiply it by 1000. The pain, the satisfaction, the projectile puss, the whole thing. I believe it was my body rejecting bras, as the cyst was directly where those pesty wires rest. Of all the liberal tenets, the one I can shamelessly support is no bras, as is evidenced by my high school nick name. Alas, of all the liberal tenets, this could be the last to be implemented.
I got the job. The one that had me in an existential frenzy. I had a meeting with the person who interviewed me at what I thought was my worst. I asked him if it was 4 against 1, and if he had said no. He assured me he hadn't. I was confused. I started last week, exactly one year after I started at Amazon.
I've been on so many trips with friends old and new. I built a church community and a Crossfit community - both of which consistently challenge and push me. I found a manager who wants me to succeed and a team that believes I can.
All that's easy to talk about, because it's funny, or silly, or downright impressive. I mean, heck, I climbed a mountain. In my new role, I'm going to be interfacing with VPs at one of the most powerful companies in the world. But life can still be hard, and there's been plenty of hard. I'm so grateful for the doors that have opened, but a number of doors have closed, too. I still can't seem to get dating down, no matter how I approach it, and I struggle with being a single, successful woman. What is my response when a coworker jokes that my dating life could be more successful if I kept my opinions to myself? I struggle with anxiety. I still don't like change. Yet, I seem to experience a lot of change on my own volition. My heart still aches for my family.
So I'm working through some things. I quit drinking. And by quit, I mean I haven't had a drink yet today. I think this stint will be for a little while, though. At least a week. I'm seeking out a single, female mentor to add to my repertoire. I'm considering therapy, but I am terrible at making appointments, so I give that a 40/60 odds. I'm trying to look to God, rest in Him, and seek His kingdom above all else.
I've been thinking about time, and how God's concept of time is completely different than my own. Hanging by my door is a picture I bought in Thailand. A girl is peering into the distance, a beautiful horizon full of color and unknown promise. I met a man at the airport recently. He's moving his wife and two kids, ages 11 and 12, to France to be a wine maker at Chateau Margaeux. His flight was in three days, they had sold everything, and he was anxiously awaiting his visa from the Counselate. In those hard moments, when I question God, when I yell at Him, when I cry to Him, I remind myself that life is this beautiful tapestry of grace woven by the most caring, intricate artist, and time will only tell how He paints that mysterious horizon.
*Though let's be honest, I'd probably get bored with only one other person.
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Wednesday, June 5, 2019
What's Hard about Amazon
Hi Stephen. I'm sorry it's been so long. I've had a blog for seven years, and every year, I've spoken to you on your birthday. My tardiness is inexcusable, but I always come to you to talk - especially in my angsty teenage days. I'm no longer angsty, but I still think about you, and our family. I was talking about us at a work event today, and I told everyone I had five siblings, one who passed before his time. I'm sure you're doing very exciting things in Heaven, but I still like to think that you have an ear when I'm talking to you. I remember that because of your suffering, and the suffering of our parents, I'm blessed to be alive, and I don't take that for granted.
I've struggled in many areas of my life, rejection and loneliness being the ones that come to mind. But I've never struggled with imposter syndrome. Frankly, I hate the term, because it's a buzz word, and you know how I feel about buzz words. Yes, I got rejected from Harvard, but who cares. Probably not my scene, anyways. I didn't get the internship at Land O Lakes, but while their butter contributes to an indulgent chocolate chip cookie, it definitely wasn't my jam. I've always been smart. Academics have never been difficult, and even in business school, I was completely comfortable with what I could contribute.
Then I came to Amazon. The first six months were fine - after all, you have a learning curve, and everyone accepts that. Even you. Then you think about what's next. How am I adding value, and how am I contributing? You sit in a meeting and hear the person who could sell a ketchup popsicle to a lady wearing white gloves*, or the individual who uses five syllable words to explain a simple problem. A room where everyone is vying to prove their value.
You know how much I love family, and that if I could paint a picture of my life, it would involve Sunday dinners with everyone. While I know that that life isn't perfect, it's what I envisioned for so long. When I entered grad school, I told myself I was going to return to Cleveland, and I definitely wasn't going to the West Coast. Even right now, I'm looking at my parent's Christmas card on my fridge which is a picture of them with all our nieces and nephews, and I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts sometimes, and I don't think that will stop.
But here I am. The past couple months have been really hard. Harder than I'd like to admit for a variety of reasons. I say all this with the caveat that I know I am blessed. As Dad reminds me, "you're playing ping pong and making more money than many will ever make." I spend weekends in the mountains, enjoy indulgent meals, lay on my couch at 11 AM on a Saturday without a care in the world. I'm not writing this to elicit pity, but I believe it's valuable to acknowledge that despite the facade one can easily portray, life is hard. With that, I continue.
I don't want to define myself by my work, and at the same time, the reason I came to Seattle is for my work.
I interviewed this week for another role within the company. The first interview question was what did you do to influence a department.
Me: "Well, I was a one person marketing department at a startup. I had an idea. I told myself about the idea in a meeting with myself, and I agreed with me." Obviously, this is not surprising to the readership, because I talk to myself often. Of course, I went on to say how I influenced the startup, but I'm talking to the person who influenced the entire Best Buy organization. Or the entire P&G organization. Or the entire Amazon organization. What do I have to offer? Why am I valuable? What have I actually done? Do I belong here? Am I an imposter? Will the name really change to Annazon?
Then I hear another voice. It's easy to ignore, and it's easy to drown out, but it's the most powerful voice there is. It's the small, quiet voice, that says, "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all."
The week before I started at Amazon, I read the story of Esther. It is a story of a woman who rose above the rest because she did not rely on her own ability, but rather, the unmerited favor of the Lord. She was undeserving, and a beautiful picture of humility, and because of that, she came to a power of authority that was able to positively influence those around her.
I don't believe I'm Esther, but I've been thinking a lot about the Lord lately, my relationship with Him, and how that relationship influences my attitude towards work. I put a lot of pressure on myself and on God, especially in work. I think, God, I came all this way, I've sacrificed so much, so what are You are going to do with me? How are You going to use me?
And that thought isn't terribly misguided, but it's selfish. Because at the end of the day, if the only reason He brought me to Seattle, or the only reason He gave me life, is to draw me closer to Him, and to build my relationship with Him, my life is a beautiful success. Regardless of where my career goes. In the mean time, He put me in a place where I am able to learn from the people who influenced Best Buy, P&G, Amazon.** How cool is that?
I don't know if I received the job. I give it a 50/50 shot. The first three interviews were questionable, and the last two were pretty solid. One of my interviews was done over a thirty minute fire drill. When the man complimented me on my composure, I told him I grew up with a loud, Polish family, so I was used to speaking over noise. Stephen, my family, including you, will always be the center of my life, next to God, no matter where I am. I love you. And I miss you. I'm so glad we have this family that is strong, and I still hope you're proud of me, Big Brother.
* I don't why I love that idiom so much, but I do.
** He also gave me the gift of wine.
I've struggled in many areas of my life, rejection and loneliness being the ones that come to mind. But I've never struggled with imposter syndrome. Frankly, I hate the term, because it's a buzz word, and you know how I feel about buzz words. Yes, I got rejected from Harvard, but who cares. Probably not my scene, anyways. I didn't get the internship at Land O Lakes, but while their butter contributes to an indulgent chocolate chip cookie, it definitely wasn't my jam. I've always been smart. Academics have never been difficult, and even in business school, I was completely comfortable with what I could contribute.
Then I came to Amazon. The first six months were fine - after all, you have a learning curve, and everyone accepts that. Even you. Then you think about what's next. How am I adding value, and how am I contributing? You sit in a meeting and hear the person who could sell a ketchup popsicle to a lady wearing white gloves*, or the individual who uses five syllable words to explain a simple problem. A room where everyone is vying to prove their value.
You know how much I love family, and that if I could paint a picture of my life, it would involve Sunday dinners with everyone. While I know that that life isn't perfect, it's what I envisioned for so long. When I entered grad school, I told myself I was going to return to Cleveland, and I definitely wasn't going to the West Coast. Even right now, I'm looking at my parent's Christmas card on my fridge which is a picture of them with all our nieces and nephews, and I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts sometimes, and I don't think that will stop.
But here I am. The past couple months have been really hard. Harder than I'd like to admit for a variety of reasons. I say all this with the caveat that I know I am blessed. As Dad reminds me, "you're playing ping pong and making more money than many will ever make." I spend weekends in the mountains, enjoy indulgent meals, lay on my couch at 11 AM on a Saturday without a care in the world. I'm not writing this to elicit pity, but I believe it's valuable to acknowledge that despite the facade one can easily portray, life is hard. With that, I continue.
I don't want to define myself by my work, and at the same time, the reason I came to Seattle is for my work.
I interviewed this week for another role within the company. The first interview question was what did you do to influence a department.
Me: "Well, I was a one person marketing department at a startup. I had an idea. I told myself about the idea in a meeting with myself, and I agreed with me." Obviously, this is not surprising to the readership, because I talk to myself often. Of course, I went on to say how I influenced the startup, but I'm talking to the person who influenced the entire Best Buy organization. Or the entire P&G organization. Or the entire Amazon organization. What do I have to offer? Why am I valuable? What have I actually done? Do I belong here? Am I an imposter? Will the name really change to Annazon?
Then I hear another voice. It's easy to ignore, and it's easy to drown out, but it's the most powerful voice there is. It's the small, quiet voice, that says, "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all."
The week before I started at Amazon, I read the story of Esther. It is a story of a woman who rose above the rest because she did not rely on her own ability, but rather, the unmerited favor of the Lord. She was undeserving, and a beautiful picture of humility, and because of that, she came to a power of authority that was able to positively influence those around her.
I don't believe I'm Esther, but I've been thinking a lot about the Lord lately, my relationship with Him, and how that relationship influences my attitude towards work. I put a lot of pressure on myself and on God, especially in work. I think, God, I came all this way, I've sacrificed so much, so what are You are going to do with me? How are You going to use me?
And that thought isn't terribly misguided, but it's selfish. Because at the end of the day, if the only reason He brought me to Seattle, or the only reason He gave me life, is to draw me closer to Him, and to build my relationship with Him, my life is a beautiful success. Regardless of where my career goes. In the mean time, He put me in a place where I am able to learn from the people who influenced Best Buy, P&G, Amazon.** How cool is that?
I don't know if I received the job. I give it a 50/50 shot. The first three interviews were questionable, and the last two were pretty solid. One of my interviews was done over a thirty minute fire drill. When the man complimented me on my composure, I told him I grew up with a loud, Polish family, so I was used to speaking over noise. Stephen, my family, including you, will always be the center of my life, next to God, no matter where I am. I love you. And I miss you. I'm so glad we have this family that is strong, and I still hope you're proud of me, Big Brother.
* I don't why I love that idiom so much, but I do.
** He also gave me the gift of wine.
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
The Magic of Music
"Come with me," he said. I was walking home from a Tuesday night waitressing shift, sweaty and exhausted. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I had moved to Charlottesville two years before, and I was supposed to love my job, thrive, find someone, and pave a very clear path to my illustrious future. Instead, I had left my job because I wasn't challenged, and I had started working at a local restaurant. The hours were long, my feet were tired, and I wondered what I was doing with this love I had for working hard and creating.
The bartender was eccentric. He was magnetic, sarcastic, and had all the wisdom and charm that came with years of bartending across states, cities, and locales. He had stories for days, and a dangerous ability to mix one drink that would make you question your tolerance. He was the man who saw me breaking down in the alley behind the restaurant and told me that no one and nothing deserved my tears. More importantly, though, he had the key to get to the front row. He was having a smoke as I walked by. Though I was hesitant at first, it's not hard to convince me to sneak into a show, even if I've never heard a song from the band.
"Follow me," he said, as he grabbed three beers. One for me, one for him, and one for the bouncer keeping hooligans from creeping to the front. It was surprisingly easy, though. He gave the beer to the bouncer, wiggled his way through a person or two, and there we were. Front row. Watching artists play with all their heart, immersed in the moment. A weight was lifted. I wasn't worried about the future, where I would be in ten years, or what I would do. For two hours, we jumped, we danced, we shouted, we were transported to another world.
I've been to countless shows over the years, and after that concert, I never listened to Mute Math again. But it was magical. Music has this mysterious power to melt away every little thought on the back of your mind and make you ecstatic about both the present and the prospects of the future.
I haven't written in awhile, and I want you to know I think about you all the time. Every day, really. A silly thought comes to mind, and I know you'd laugh. But every time I sit down to write, I just can't do it. I used to write about things like the number of burger combinations you could create at Boylan Heights or which fruit each month would be. Then I took a job at a startup. I studied for the GMAT, applied to grad school, travelled, got an internship, got a job. What fantastic material to include in a blog. What now?
It's real life. I don't have a momentous update. I go to work every day. I may go to a happy hour, and then I come home. I'm still single. I haven't gotten a dog. What next?
For starters, I'm learning patience.
With myself. There are so many aspects I know I can improve, but I'm continually learning to appreciate that one fault I've tempered, that one area I've grown.
With others. People have different priorities at different stages in life, and just because you aren't at the top of their priority list now doesn't mean they wouldn't drop everything if they knew you really needed them.
With dating. I went on a really great couple dates with a guy who checked the proverbial boxes. Then, he faded, and for probably the first time, it didn't affect me. After years, I have reached the point that if a guy isn't itching to see me at the beginning, he's not worth my mental space. That's a bigger step than I'd like to admit.
With God. This is always the hardest, but all I have to do is look at my life between that concert and now to know that He has this really neat plan for my life that I couldn't paint if I tried.
Real life definitely has its perks. A consistent paycheck is one of them. Weekends are another, and I've been using every chance I can to explore the beauty of this part of the country and spending time with the wonderful people I'm blessed to call friends.
I went to a weekday concert the other night for the first time in Seattle. Passion Pit at the Sodo Showbox. I'm at a very different stage. I have an MBA, a job in which I can make an impact, however small, adult furniture. But I'd be lying if I said those thoughts from years ago don't still creep from time to time. What's next? What is the most valuable thing I could be doing? How do I grow the most? How do I make the biggest impact? Will I ever be near family? Will I find someone?*
We weren't in the front row, but the energy was vibrant. Somewhere in the middle of 'Take a Walk', as I jumped around, in what I'm sure was rhythmless dance, and bumped into the children making out next to me, all those questions melted away, and I remembered the pure magic of music.
The only difference was, I woke up real tired the next morning.
*I hate saying that's a thought, but it is, so screw it, I gotta say it.
The bartender was eccentric. He was magnetic, sarcastic, and had all the wisdom and charm that came with years of bartending across states, cities, and locales. He had stories for days, and a dangerous ability to mix one drink that would make you question your tolerance. He was the man who saw me breaking down in the alley behind the restaurant and told me that no one and nothing deserved my tears. More importantly, though, he had the key to get to the front row. He was having a smoke as I walked by. Though I was hesitant at first, it's not hard to convince me to sneak into a show, even if I've never heard a song from the band.
"Follow me," he said, as he grabbed three beers. One for me, one for him, and one for the bouncer keeping hooligans from creeping to the front. It was surprisingly easy, though. He gave the beer to the bouncer, wiggled his way through a person or two, and there we were. Front row. Watching artists play with all their heart, immersed in the moment. A weight was lifted. I wasn't worried about the future, where I would be in ten years, or what I would do. For two hours, we jumped, we danced, we shouted, we were transported to another world.
I've been to countless shows over the years, and after that concert, I never listened to Mute Math again. But it was magical. Music has this mysterious power to melt away every little thought on the back of your mind and make you ecstatic about both the present and the prospects of the future.
I haven't written in awhile, and I want you to know I think about you all the time. Every day, really. A silly thought comes to mind, and I know you'd laugh. But every time I sit down to write, I just can't do it. I used to write about things like the number of burger combinations you could create at Boylan Heights or which fruit each month would be. Then I took a job at a startup. I studied for the GMAT, applied to grad school, travelled, got an internship, got a job. What fantastic material to include in a blog. What now?
It's real life. I don't have a momentous update. I go to work every day. I may go to a happy hour, and then I come home. I'm still single. I haven't gotten a dog. What next?
For starters, I'm learning patience.
With myself. There are so many aspects I know I can improve, but I'm continually learning to appreciate that one fault I've tempered, that one area I've grown.
With others. People have different priorities at different stages in life, and just because you aren't at the top of their priority list now doesn't mean they wouldn't drop everything if they knew you really needed them.
With dating. I went on a really great couple dates with a guy who checked the proverbial boxes. Then, he faded, and for probably the first time, it didn't affect me. After years, I have reached the point that if a guy isn't itching to see me at the beginning, he's not worth my mental space. That's a bigger step than I'd like to admit.
With God. This is always the hardest, but all I have to do is look at my life between that concert and now to know that He has this really neat plan for my life that I couldn't paint if I tried.
Real life definitely has its perks. A consistent paycheck is one of them. Weekends are another, and I've been using every chance I can to explore the beauty of this part of the country and spending time with the wonderful people I'm blessed to call friends.
I went to a weekday concert the other night for the first time in Seattle. Passion Pit at the Sodo Showbox. I'm at a very different stage. I have an MBA, a job in which I can make an impact, however small, adult furniture. But I'd be lying if I said those thoughts from years ago don't still creep from time to time. What's next? What is the most valuable thing I could be doing? How do I grow the most? How do I make the biggest impact? Will I ever be near family? Will I find someone?*
We weren't in the front row, but the energy was vibrant. Somewhere in the middle of 'Take a Walk', as I jumped around, in what I'm sure was rhythmless dance, and bumped into the children making out next to me, all those questions melted away, and I remembered the pure magic of music.
The only difference was, I woke up real tired the next morning.
*I hate saying that's a thought, but it is, so screw it, I gotta say it.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
To 2019: The Year of Ana
The first weekend of 2019! It's Sunday morning, the sun has yet to rise, and I am nearly recovered from the holidays. They were wonderful. I spent Christmas with my sister and her family in Jamaica* and New Years in Charlottesville. It was lovely to catch up with old friends, meeting new babies and fiances, getting tours of new homes, dancing, laughing. I cherished every second. The best part, though, was, I didn't miss any of it in the way I normally do, and I was excited to come back. For someone who cares deeply about home, my favorite part of 2018 is that after a short time, I'm happy to call Seattle home. Additionally, my high school nick name is still a secret, I have yet to lock myself out of my apartment, and after the re-branding to Ana is complete, the company name can be changed to either Annazon or Amazana. We cannot rest on these laurels, though. We must look forward to 2019, and with that, here are some goals:
1. Moonlight. By contract, I'm not allowed to have a second source of income, so this will be pro bono. Office ping pong lessons. I already have one client, and it's great. I feel like I'm teaching tennis again, running drills: "crosscourt, crosscourt, down the line. Now go for the kill!" I'm currently accepting students for spring sessions.
2. Ride the bus. Not the drinking game. The actual bus. When the commute is over a mile, I default to Lyft, because it's easy and saves a bit of time. Plus, after mastering the New York subway, I'm slightly intimidated by the bus system. However, I don't need to spend ten dollars to get somewhere when I could get there for free. This resolution began yesterday. The bus was an eclectic bunch, and when a group of lively elderly folks hopped on, the guy beside me informed me he "had too many mushrooms for this bus ride." To which I responded, "Or maybe, it was the perfect amount." We were both going to watch the Seahawks, though he's been on too many hallucinogens this year to follow the team. He told of the merits of DMX - or DSW - or some acronym with a D. Apparently, it was the drug Moses was smoking (consuming?) on the top of the mountain when he brought down the Ten Commandments, and the drug our body ejects as we die which causes people who are revived to reference an out-of-body experience. He suggested I try. I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He gave me his number. And there's my dating update, everyone. I'm pumped to ride the bus; I think I'll get some great material.
3. Don't look at page views of my blog posts. It's easy to do, especially since my default page is the stats page, but I find it affects my perception of what I wrote. For inquiring minds, blogs about dates get a lot more page views. I'm not writing this for anyone else, though. I'm writing for myself - and for the entire world when I eventually turn all these musings into a book.
4. Protest. Seems like the Seattle thing to do. My feud with Whole Foods rages on, so I think they will be my target despite the association with my current employer. The first time I didn't receive a bag with a handle, I excused it as poor operational efficiency. Little did I know it was part of a grander scheme to remove all handles from bags in the express lanes. I know what you're thinking: don't use the express lanes when your cart has fifty items or bring your own recyclable bags. That's not the point. The point is, if you are going to charge me $5/apple, then I want handles on every side of the bag. I want handles in places I didn't even know there could be handles. Even Walgreens has handles on its bags, but Whole Foods is trying to save fractions of a penny by removing handles in a store location that serves people in downtown Seattle, the majority of whom have to walk back to their homes, cradling their bags as if they were babies. My sign's going to read, "This sign would be a lot more difficult to hold without a handle."
5. Swipe less. Up, down, left, right. I find my phone is often a means to pass idle time in a completely unproductive manner, and while I love a good barstoolsports humiliating video, it adds very little to my life. I think there is something to be said for the ability to be quiet and still, without any sort of stimulation. Plus, I have plenty of thoughts to occupy that time.
6. Create Anna's favorite things. Amazon has a featured section called Oprah's favorite things. How is Oprah's opinion still relevant? In the past twenty years, has no one been able to establish a more credible sense of taste than Oprah? Maybe she was relevant during the cupcake craze of '05, but come on. Even that I find hard to believe, because I could have told you cupcakes were good when I was ten. Then Oprah says, "the ratio of icing to cake is appropriate (duh) and people believe she's discovered something revolutionary."
To her credit, she's clearly very good at branding, and could I do much better? Let's try. Anna's favorite things of 2018:
Jane the Virgin. A melodramatic telenovela that invokes fantasies of beautiful Latin American men.
Magnificent Mrs. Maisel. A smart, fun, empowering Prime original that invokes fantasies of starting my career as a comedian who makes smart quips about dating and corporate America.
Ballers. Sex and the City for men that invokes fantasies of being an athlete.
Okay. Clearly, this is just going to be a list of my Netflix binge queue. I have a newfound respect for Oprah. Maybe she does deserve a magazine with her face on the cover every month. But seriously, how many magazine cover poses does one woman have? New life goal: I begin a magazine called the Dome with a different dome pic every month.
7. Stop telling myself I'm going to floss. I'm not a flosser. I need to accept that.
8. Finally, be brave. I participated in this personal branding workshop at the end of my time at Ross, and you had to choose three words you wanted to described you. Honestly, I forget the other two at the moment, but I remember brave. There are different levels of brave, and honestly, I don't think everything society calls brave is brave. For instance, face planting while attempting a backflip in a conference room could be considered unbridled bravery or utter stupidity - it's all about framing. There are constructive forms of bravery, though. The bravery to discuss taboo topics, to confront your own issues, to create original solutions, to love radically, whether or not that is reciprocated, to trust and hope continually. In a position where it is easy to be comfortable, it is those who are brave enough to choose discomfort that affect growth. Cheers to 2019, y'all! As always, let's kick some ass.
* No, I didn't get tan.
1. Moonlight. By contract, I'm not allowed to have a second source of income, so this will be pro bono. Office ping pong lessons. I already have one client, and it's great. I feel like I'm teaching tennis again, running drills: "crosscourt, crosscourt, down the line. Now go for the kill!" I'm currently accepting students for spring sessions.
2. Ride the bus. Not the drinking game. The actual bus. When the commute is over a mile, I default to Lyft, because it's easy and saves a bit of time. Plus, after mastering the New York subway, I'm slightly intimidated by the bus system. However, I don't need to spend ten dollars to get somewhere when I could get there for free. This resolution began yesterday. The bus was an eclectic bunch, and when a group of lively elderly folks hopped on, the guy beside me informed me he "had too many mushrooms for this bus ride." To which I responded, "Or maybe, it was the perfect amount." We were both going to watch the Seahawks, though he's been on too many hallucinogens this year to follow the team. He told of the merits of DMX - or DSW - or some acronym with a D. Apparently, it was the drug Moses was smoking (consuming?) on the top of the mountain when he brought down the Ten Commandments, and the drug our body ejects as we die which causes people who are revived to reference an out-of-body experience. He suggested I try. I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He gave me his number. And there's my dating update, everyone. I'm pumped to ride the bus; I think I'll get some great material.
3. Don't look at page views of my blog posts. It's easy to do, especially since my default page is the stats page, but I find it affects my perception of what I wrote. For inquiring minds, blogs about dates get a lot more page views. I'm not writing this for anyone else, though. I'm writing for myself - and for the entire world when I eventually turn all these musings into a book.
4. Protest. Seems like the Seattle thing to do. My feud with Whole Foods rages on, so I think they will be my target despite the association with my current employer. The first time I didn't receive a bag with a handle, I excused it as poor operational efficiency. Little did I know it was part of a grander scheme to remove all handles from bags in the express lanes. I know what you're thinking: don't use the express lanes when your cart has fifty items or bring your own recyclable bags. That's not the point. The point is, if you are going to charge me $5/apple, then I want handles on every side of the bag. I want handles in places I didn't even know there could be handles. Even Walgreens has handles on its bags, but Whole Foods is trying to save fractions of a penny by removing handles in a store location that serves people in downtown Seattle, the majority of whom have to walk back to their homes, cradling their bags as if they were babies. My sign's going to read, "This sign would be a lot more difficult to hold without a handle."
5. Swipe less. Up, down, left, right. I find my phone is often a means to pass idle time in a completely unproductive manner, and while I love a good barstoolsports humiliating video, it adds very little to my life. I think there is something to be said for the ability to be quiet and still, without any sort of stimulation. Plus, I have plenty of thoughts to occupy that time.
6. Create Anna's favorite things. Amazon has a featured section called Oprah's favorite things. How is Oprah's opinion still relevant? In the past twenty years, has no one been able to establish a more credible sense of taste than Oprah? Maybe she was relevant during the cupcake craze of '05, but come on. Even that I find hard to believe, because I could have told you cupcakes were good when I was ten. Then Oprah says, "the ratio of icing to cake is appropriate (duh) and people believe she's discovered something revolutionary."
To her credit, she's clearly very good at branding, and could I do much better? Let's try. Anna's favorite things of 2018:
Jane the Virgin. A melodramatic telenovela that invokes fantasies of beautiful Latin American men.
Magnificent Mrs. Maisel. A smart, fun, empowering Prime original that invokes fantasies of starting my career as a comedian who makes smart quips about dating and corporate America.
Ballers. Sex and the City for men that invokes fantasies of being an athlete.
Okay. Clearly, this is just going to be a list of my Netflix binge queue. I have a newfound respect for Oprah. Maybe she does deserve a magazine with her face on the cover every month. But seriously, how many magazine cover poses does one woman have? New life goal: I begin a magazine called the Dome with a different dome pic every month.
7. Stop telling myself I'm going to floss. I'm not a flosser. I need to accept that.
8. Finally, be brave. I participated in this personal branding workshop at the end of my time at Ross, and you had to choose three words you wanted to described you. Honestly, I forget the other two at the moment, but I remember brave. There are different levels of brave, and honestly, I don't think everything society calls brave is brave. For instance, face planting while attempting a backflip in a conference room could be considered unbridled bravery or utter stupidity - it's all about framing. There are constructive forms of bravery, though. The bravery to discuss taboo topics, to confront your own issues, to create original solutions, to love radically, whether or not that is reciprocated, to trust and hope continually. In a position where it is easy to be comfortable, it is those who are brave enough to choose discomfort that affect growth. Cheers to 2019, y'all! As always, let's kick some ass.
* No, I didn't get tan.
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