Tag Archives: #Reverb10

Today’s #reverb10 prompt asks for a list of the 11 things you could do without :

What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?

I love lists.

1. Cable – I’ve never watched very much TV, and since I started school, I watch even less. I realized that the only reason I really have cable is for the DVR, since I never watch anything live. I’ve done some research (Hulu? Netflix via Wii?), but I need to make a decision and cut the cord.

2. Old clothes – I’m four or five sizes smaller than I was two years ago, so why am I still holding onto the old clothes? I’m never going to wear them again, so they need to be donated.

3. Taco Bell – I used to have a terrible habit of stopping by Taco Bell on my way home from grocery shopping. I do this far less frequently now, but every time I eat it, I feel gross. There is much better, more authentic quick Mexican food at a place right across the street.

4. Music I don’t listen to – My iTunes is full of songs left over from when my ex merged our accounts, many of which I always flip past. I need to invest some time in deleting the ones I really don’t listen to.

5. Clutter – I used to move every year, which kept the clutter under control. But now that I’ve been in this house nearly five years, the closets and basement are getting full. If I haven’t needed it since I’ve lived here, it needs to go.

6. VHS tapes – Really, why do I still have a stack of blank VHS tapes?

7. Staying up/sleeping in for the sake of it – I often find myself staying up way too late, puttering around, just because I feel like I should stay up to a certain time. Conversely, on rare sleep in days, I often force myself to sleep later than I really need to just because I can. Both are counterproductive.

8. Magazine subscriptions – As I’ve blogged, I have way too many magazine subscriptions that I never read. (The problem – and the piles – have gotten worse since school started and I’m not commuting as much.) While a couple are certainly read, I’m going to let the others all lapse.

9. Store-bought granola bars – I eat a lot of granola bars, usually as a pre-run or mid-class snack. I recently started making my own (based on Jenn’s recipe), and they’re fantastic. Then I ran out of the homemade ones and bought more from a store. Blegh. I can do better.

10. Negative people – You know how some people always bring you down? I don’t need that.

11. Excuses to not blog – I love to write but it’s so easy to find excuses not to. I think #reverb10 is proving that frequent writing is possible, even during the busy holiday season and finals.

What’s on your list?

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Today, #reverb10 asks about Wisdom: What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

I’ve made lots of decisions this year, some wise, some less than thought-out. But for argument’s sake, let’s say the wisest ones are the most pervasive, the ones whose effects ripple through every single day.

I said yes.

And that empowered me to say no.

Early this year, I decided to say yes to everything, to every invitation, to every newsletter subscription list, to every book a friend recommended, to exotic new foods, to running. Try everything once, I repeated like a mom to a picky eater. It won’t kill you to try it on, to see if you like it.

I’ve said yes to dozens of ideas, activities, groups, tweetups, clubs, etc. I’ve shed some that I realized definitely weren’t for me. I embraced some that are such perfect fits, like a worn pair of jeans, that I feel like they’ve always been part of my life.

In short, I decided to say yes to the possibilities that surround our lives, circling around us, if only we stretch just a bit to reach them. In doing so, I’ve found so much intrigue and joy. It’s liberating. You really can be who you want to be, if only you’ll say yes to the possibilities and take a little leap of faith.

And by deciding to say yes, I learned I can also say no. I said no to a life I realized I didn’t want.

Wisdom always seems clearer in retrospect. When I decided to start saying yes, I did so to expand my horizons. I didn’t realize that my horizons were already nice and wide – I just had to reach for them. I can’t wait to see what I grasp in 2011.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

I was doing so well with my #reverb10 posts! Yesterday was the first time I didn’t get a post up promptly. In my defense, this has been an insane week, with finals for my first two classes. (I am now 13% done with my graduate program. My goodness how time flies!)

Last night, as we finished our exam, my classmates and I gathered at Elephant & Castle for drinks. As I sat there and drank cider and watched the snow fall, I thought about the prompt:

Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

And I couldn’t think of any one specific gathering. I didn’t go to any big blow-out parties this year. (I’m okay with that.) I only went to one wedding, and it wasn’t a traditional one with music, dancing, etc.

Instead, I went to many, many more small social gatherings than I ever have before, even ones where I don’t know people. I’ve gone to events for social marketing people, book signings, running events, local tweetups, all of which I would have been reluctant to do a year ago.

Many of my friends now have kids, so some of the bigger parties I used to count on every year have changed, with kid-friendly activities, nap rooms, and an 8 PM curfew.

But that’s fine. As we grow up, so do our expectations and definitions of “fun.” I was never a drink-till-I-black-out party girl. And really, it’s about the people you spend time with. If dear friends are hosting a third birthday party, I’m there. And if party time involves a Scrabble board and some wine, so much the better.

What about you? Did you have a memorable party experience this year?

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Twelve hours of mulling over today’s #reverb10 prompt hasn’t made it any clearer:

Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.

I’ve read at least a dozen posts on this prompt, and the responses are widely varied. Grace Boyle nails it in her post, “Letting YOU Shine.” Matt Cheuvront took an approach with an homage to Rocky in his: “Are You a Fighter?”

And I think that in itself is what’s beautifully different: our perspectives. Each of us is molded and shaped by our experiences and backgrounds. A random off-hand comment made to (or by) our eight-year-old selves may forever color how we see something.

Each experience adds a new lens to our glasses, whether rose-colored or otherwise. A particularly vivid memory tinged with extreme joy or sorrow will sharpen how we see similar incidents. Things we’d rather forget get blurry, like Vaseline smeared over the lens, a trick to enhance less-than-ideal events.

I’m just finishing a class on Consumer Insights (the final is tomorrow, in fact), and  learning how different market segments view the world has opened my eyes to an entirely new world. This one class, over ten weeks, has given me an entirely new set of lenses (with nerdy frames) to look at advertising critically and determine which consumer values marketers are trying to leverage. What does each group – whether ethnic, religious, cultural, or fans of a given product – value? Why?

You can make sweeping generalizations – and you have to, sometimes – but the truth is, we can never really know exactly what makes someone tick, what drives them, what they see when they look at an ad.

And that’s what makes me different. The year I spent in Hungary completely transformed me at the impressionable age of 14. Being a big sister gave me another set of experiences with corresponding lenses, as did the high school debate team. Heck, girl scout camping trips and grocery shopping with my mom left indelible impressions that reverberate today, whether I realize it or not. Each and every experience – no matter how seemingly insignificant – contributes to the mosaic that is me.

You can try to walk in someone else’s shoes, but unless you know what glasses they’re wearing, you’ll never fully understand their perspective.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Today, I made myself get out of bed and then made the bed. I made coffee and scrambled eggs. I made a study guide for tomorrow’s exam. I made lunch and a nest of blankets for the cat to burrow in, away from the cold. I made butternut squash tacos and a mess in the kitchen, which I promptly cleaned up.

Today’s #Reverb10 prompt asks, “Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?” It definitely threw me for a loop.

I make things every single day, but they’re not necessarily tangible, inedible items that I can point to and say, “I made that.” (Though I did build some bookcases.)

But over any given period of time, I do indeed make lots of things.

I make music, singing in the shower or vacuuming.

I make plans for tonight, next week, next month and the next generation, fully aware that plans are made to be broken.

I make new friends and acquaintances. I (probably) make new enemies.

I make people laugh, sometimes unintentionally.

I make fire and ice, though I’m not sure which I favor.

I make decisions, sometimes too late.

I make money and progress and a life.

Because really, making is the same as doing. Think about how many phrases in English rely on “make” to make sense (ahem). In describing your day, you have to “make”time and room and other abstracts while you make a coffee run or photocopies.

And doing is a marvelous thing. In July, I blogged about the nirvana of doing, quoting Thomas Jefferson:

“Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time who never loses any. It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing.”

So while I can’t show you a tea cosy or scarf I’ve recently made, I don’t feel at a loss for making. In fact, I think I’m going to make it after all.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Today’s #reverb10 prompt has a very easy answer, and a much less apparent answer:

Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

A year ago, I was planning a July wedding, which I called off in February. I ended the relationship entirely a couple months later.

But that’s too simplistic. Thinking it through, 2010 was not just the year I woke up, it was the year I let go of my preconceived notions of myself.

Growing up, I was always the fat kid, the bookworm who had no athletic talent – or desire to do anything active. The klutz who lead all the academic and nerdy teams and clubs in high school. It suited me. And I thought it was who I would always be.

But nearly two years ago, when I started my new healthier lifestyle, I shifted that paradigm. As I got lighter and stronger, I got braver. I found a new confidence I’d never known before. It was exciting. Exhilarating.

As I rounded the corner into 2010, I started leveraging that confidence and realized I didn’t need to conform to the stereotypes I had established for myself half a lifetime ago. I truly could be anyone I wanted to be, including a runner, a grad student, a neighborhood leader, all titles I lacked a year ago.

And while I didn’t pick up the Mrs. I had planned to this year, I’m very satisfied with how things have turned out. By letting go of my teenage concept of self, I’ve finally started to grow up into an even better version. Letting go has empowered me to go forward to bigger and better things.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Day 3 of #reverb10: Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

In addition to being awake this year, I’ve felt more alive than ever. I set out for a long run this afternoon with the prompt churning in my head (and quickly ran 8 miles instead of the 6 I intended).

The strongest “alive” moment happened on Memorial Day, as I was nearing the end of the Elgin Fox Trot, my very first 5k. It was an oppressively hot, sticky humid morning, even at 7 AM. On previous days like that, I’d delayed my run until the evening cool down, but I was so excited for that race. I stopped for water at both aid stations and drank it down, dribbling water over my chin and shirt as I realized I’ve never tried to drink while running. The water clung to my shirt and made it feel heavier and damp.

Fortunately, most of the route was through a historic neighborhood with large, mature trees lining the streets, providing some very welcome shade.

But as we came to the end, running downhill, down the middle of Douglas Street where it crosses Kimball – usually a very busy intersection I’d never crossed without waiting for the light – the trees ended and we were thrust into the full, glaring blaze of the sun. Right at that point, we passed the three mile marker. Both sides of the street were lined with thick crowds, cheering that we were almost there, so close, just another tenth of a mile. The crowds surged as we truly raced downhill towards the finish line, just a tenth of a mile, less than that, and I got caught up in it and ran like I had never run during my two paltry months of training. My heart pounded nearly as hard as my feet were slamming into the hot, steaming asphalt, and I tasted the salty sweat streaming down my face. I took longer strides than my short legs had ever been capable of, and I felt like I was flying. Just a tenth of a mile, then a twentieth where I saw my parents, beaming, then the finish was in sight. I ran, pushing myself to the end, and I wanted to cry. The fat kid was finishing a 5k on a hot, humid May day, just two months after running my first quarter mile in a decade.

I must have smiled for the next six hours. And that is why I run – to reclaim that feeling, to feel the blood pulsing through my veins, to know that, with discipline, hard work, and focus, I can finish what I started.

There have been other moments this year where I was acutely aware of being alive, awake and in control of my life.

The February morning I spent wading in the cold, gray Pacific in Coronado, CA when I made some very big decisions stands out. I can still feel the sand between my toes, which felt strangely free after months of being confined by the boots of a Chicago winter. I can taste the sangria I drank at a little cafe after that walk, and taste the fresh cilantro I ate with the fish tacos at that same cafe. I can see the Hotel Del Coronado lurking in the background, as it has for a century, the sunlight reflecting off the red roof and spoiling the pictures I tried to take. I can hear the quiet, how all noises were overruled by the ocean as the waves crashed into the shore. There were almost no people around, just a few kids playing and a woman sketching.

Or the August night when I biked to Wing Park for a concert with friends, laying in the grass on a blanket, staring up at the sunset as I sipped the wine we drank from water bottles, letting the music wash over me as I closed my eyes. As I left the park that night – after I turned down rides offered because of the ominous clouds closing in – the skies opened and it poured. I got drenched. The warm rain cool on my skin, and I got goosebumps as I brushed the strings of hair out of my face and wrung out the green tank top I wore. I raced down Edison Street towards home, splashing through puddles with abandon so my brakes no longer worked, and felt ALIVE.

There are other moments, which is a good dilemma to have. I would be worried if I had no moments of true life in  a single year.

How about you? When did you feel ALIVE in 2010?

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Day 2 of #Reverb10 brings this prompt from Leo Babauta:

What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Each day? I don’t know. I run a pretty tight ship with my limited free time. There’s not a lot of time wasted. TV isn’t the time suck it used to be, as I’ve cut down quite a bit and don’t watch nearly as much. While I do while away hours on Twitter (and, less so, on Facebook), I find great inspiration and ideas from my networks and bookmark articles for later pondering.

School cuts down on my writing time, but again, it inspires ideas and isn’t something I’d give up. Plus, in the long run, it’s worth it.

No, I’m not really looking at any physical obstacles to my writing. So let’s go deeper.

I’ve gotten over some of the worst doubts about my writing. I even have a great trick to silence the inner editor and perfectionist tendencies. (Tip: change your font color to white until you’re done, THEN edit. Much more efficient than agonizing over and changing every word as you write.)

So really, I think the only thing that really gets in the way of my writing is my uneven desire. Sometimes, I’ll be gung-ho, guns blazing, and crank out two or three or four posts in a sitting, then do light editing over the next several days. (This often happens late at night, when I feel like I must capture words on (electronic) paper before I can sleep.)

But other times, I’ll go a couple weeks – or worse, months – without writing anything for me. It’s not that there’s nothing to write about. I’m constantly sending ideas to Evernote and adding to a note in my phone. Rather, I just feel very meh about the whole endeavor. Eventually I get over it, but it can be a hard funk to snap out of.

I think exercises like #Reverb10 will get me back in the habit of writing daily, no matter the topic, so it becomes just as part of my day that I no longer think about. I never think about brushing my teeth, or decide it can wait until the weekend or when I have more time. I just DO it. It’s not even on my to-do list.

Writing needs to become the same type of habit for me. While habit and routine can’t fuel true desire, they can carry you through the meh patches. Like winter in Chicago.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.