Dec 16, 2010 | Awakenings
You may delay, but time will not. ~Benjamin Franklin
I met a writing contest deadline yesterday. That’s the good news. The bad news is I made revisions right down to the last nanosecond. I am a deadlineaholic. And I need to change.
Having written thousands of stories on deadline, I know how to complete a project in two days when I had a week to work on it with less pressure. If good work results from two days, what would a week produce? I am about to find out.
This summer I thought I had kicked the habit as a deadline junkie when my short film, Emily’s Home, was the first out of 48 projects completed for the 48 Hour Film Project. I’m still stunned as it was my first time leading a cast and crew as a director/producer/writer.
But old habits are easy to embrace. Creating winning habits requires consistency in planning and execution.
I have my eye on a fellowship with a May deadline. I will submit my application in January just to start 2011 off right.
To further break the yoke of deadlineaholicism, I just announced my first resolution – or winning habit –for the new year, 15 days early. A sign of movement toward time management bliss. Won’t you join me?
Dec 11, 2010 | Awakenings
During this limited production called life you never know who you will meet and what you will learn.
At a wonderful Christmas party last night, I met three incredible women who shared intimate aspects of their lives amidst a roaring fire as warm and welcoming as the candid conversation we shared.
The experience was invigorating. Trying to connect with strangers can sometimes be an awkward exercise full of pregnant pauses and forced cheer. But I could have talked with these women all night.
The lovely party occurred in three different parts of my friend’s home. So while one room howled with laughter and shared stories at top-volume, and another room functioned as the TV-watching man cave, the quieter living room we sat in was ideal for real talk. So that’s what four of us engaged in.
We learned that one woman with expressive eyes lost her 12 year-old daughter to cancer a year and a day ago, an outgoing woman I am Facebook friends with lost her mom around the Christmas holiday and a third woman, who glowed with optimism, battled breast cancer four times.
Their courage, compassion and composure blew me away. Their struggles and strategies for dealing with loss and grief eventually turned to a discussion about faith. The surprising highlight of the party was discovering the God Box.
My Facebook pal shared that she writes down whatever is troubling her. She places the paper detailing her issue inside a beautiful, fabric-encased box she received as a gift. By doing so, she hands the problem over to God. Once she closes the lid, the problem is out of her hands and removed from her must-worry-about list.
We squealed with delight, vowing to copy the idea and perhaps buy some God Boxes as Christmas gifts for our loved ones. Giving God Boxes are thoughtful gifts easy on the cash flow during this punch-drunk economy.
Learning about the God Box and connecting with women who were refreshingly real about their lives left me feeling reflective, inspired and truly festive long after the party ended.
Nov 30, 2010 | Awakenings
Mention philanthropy, female empowerment and diversity –three of my favorite topics — and Kiva comes to mind.
This ingenious non-profit allows anyone to become a micro-lender. In just a few years, $100 million has been loaned to female and male entrepreneurs around the globe to start their own businesses, many modest ventures. Donors can choose to support only women business owners as I have. For as little as $25, these loans can lift a woman and her family out of poverty and onto the road of sustainability. Imagine the mind shift and spirit uplift that occurs when a woman controls her own business. Best yet, default rates are low.
When the money is paid back, you can withdraw your investment, donate it to Kiva or lend it to another needy applicant of your choosing.
For the price of a pedicure or perm, you can change the course of lives and feel pretty inside. No matter how tight money is, I can find a way to make my discretionary dollars help a woman on another continent build self-sufficiency. One day that recipient may be in the position to help another woman with a loan. The goodwill and positivity engendered by that thought is more than enough reason for me to skip a hair appointment or a treasured movie date with hubby and share what I can.
Last year as a result of the global recession, Kiva began lending money to cash-starved small businessess in the U.S. so the option to help closer to home is there.
Locally, there are many deserving nonprofits needing our time, resources and money.
In 2009, a few of us formed a women’s giving circle to participate in a new project called Impact 100 Richmond. The concept is simple yet grand. Gather 100 women willing to donate $1,000 apiece to give a deserving nonprofit a $100,000 transformative grant. Don’t have $1,000? Giving circles of up to 10 women pool funds to donate a total of $1,000 to ease the financial weight.
Other cities use the impact template, too. This is one idea worth copying, ladies.
However you contribute to those needing a lending hand, the end result is mutually beneficial. You improve someone’s life. And your own.
Nov 24, 2010 | Awakenings
A reflective mood prompted me to wake up early today and express my appreciation for this limited production called my life, which I direct, produce, edit and star in. I chuckle because those are the same roles I undertook for the short film I did this summer for the 48 Hour Film Festival.
Life is rewarding and challenging. I grow more appreciative as the seasons fade. At this very moment, before the holiday officially kicks in, I am :
Healthy and blessed.
Always learning.
Pushing forward.
Plunky.
Youthful in spirit.
Talking from the heart.
Honest about my shortcomings.
Able to laugh often.
Needing guidance and seeking it.
Happy to be above ground.
Keeping the faith.
So pleased I have a great husband.
Growing.
Idealistic.
Valued (and forgiving those who don’t see it.)
In touch with the real me.
Never abandoning my dreams.
Grateful to love and be loved.
Enjoy your own reflections.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Nov 4, 2010 | Awakenings
Never had I thought about where I might die until tonight.
I spent a couple hours learning about Joseph’s House in Washington, D.C., which provides a nurturing place for homeless people dying from AIDS. The organization is featured in a new documentary, “The Other City.” Produced by Sheila Johnson, this powerful film introduces us to the faces behind the mind-boggling statistics that tell us D.C. has the nation’s highest HIV/AIDS rate, which rivals African countries.
This film transports us to the tourist-free side of Chocolate City and wallops us with narratives from people often overlooked. We meet a young man infected as a teenager, a demographic that helps to make up one-third of new HIV infections nationwide. We see up close a mother, 28, with full blown AIDS, struggling to keep a roof over the heads of her three children.
We see them, white, black, Latino, straight, gay, young and old. The five individuals profiled fight for their dignity and work to keep others from sharing their dignity-robbing disease.
Hubby is used to me weeping when a film pierces my heart. “The Other City” made me more emotional than “Waiting for Superman.” But this time my river of tears flowed out of a deep gulf of shame.
I was one of those people who turned a deaf ear to a friend in the early ‘90s who knew he was dying from AIDS. He asked me to come see him. I would not go. We had a special friendship as young journalists and shared a home with other journalists one summer in Berkeley, California. Still, I would not go. I did not have an excuse then and I wish I could think of one now to justify such selfish and idiotic behavior.
The beauty of life is we can grow, we can change, we can reboot.
Thank. God.
I thought of Ed throughout the insightful film written by a Washington Post journalist whose coverage of the topic earned him a Pulitzer Prize. Ed was loved and died with dignity. For too many, that is not the reality and for this epidemic to explode in our nation’s capitol is unconscionable.
The screening benefitted the Fan Free Clinic, a nonprofit that aids the “other city” in Richmond. The first free clinic in Virginia will celebrate next week its 40-year anniversary.
I felt tired before I arrived at the event. By by the end of the film I felt oddly rejuvenated. As hard as the film was to watch at times, it showcased the indomitable human spirit. On the spot, I decided to go beyond being moved to tears. So before the reception got underway, I introduced myself to the executive director of the Fan Free Clinic and asked her how could I help? With HIV infections rates increasing in some cities nationwide, that’s a question more of us can ask.
Oct 29, 2010 | Awakenings
Last night I learned I had lost 100 pounds! In just a week.
The online Weight Watcher tracker congratulated me with a bevy of “milestone” stars masking as confetti and exclamation marks. The digital world party was a real jamming throw down in my honor. The on-line party, where I was the guest of honor as “The Biggest Loser,” momentarily confused me until I realized what happened: while trying to enter a 1.6 pound loss, I accidentally wrote 100.
I shifted into panic mode as I tried to undue my unearned loss. The weight tracker partied on, wanting no part of my reality. How often is a 100-pound loss gala thrown in cyber space? Binary bunnies busted all kinds of moves rocking out on Robin’s results.
The edit link froze and it seemed my only recourse was to reset my weigh history. I logged off and called home to catch up with the folks sharing my DNA.
I told my 10 year-old niece what happened. She became hysterical. Not at the mistake. She laughed when I told her how much I had really lost.
Losing just a pound or two a week may serve as fodder for a giggle fest for a 10-year-old. But for women struggling to seek a healthy weight, such numbers are weekly goals, as elusive as they sometimes can be.
“One pound can lead to 100,” I said, trying to be sage and not annoyed.
“I thought 99 pounds led to 100,” she said, before lapsing into laughter.
Young folks. Gotta love them because you can’t accidentally lose them.
She then asked me how many pounds had I lost in two weeks.
I told her 2.6 pounds and braced myself for her raucous reaction. She did not disappoint, unleashing gales of gaiety. And then I laughed, too. Because when you are young, weight is a funny topic unless you happen to be the fat kid. She’s long and lean, at least for now. But if she runs into trouble in several decades when the fat genes friendly with our DNA find her, she’ll know what to do. Her family showed her how to melt excess weight in a healthy way.
Losing a pound or two weekly may one day be her goal. That made me chuckle as we laughed together.
