@ Home in the World

Into the Unknown

When we last left our heroine, she was about to start her dream job, and it seemed that finally, finally, everything was falling into place. 

But, as in many stories, sometimes the dream is merely a device to keep the plot moving, and a weak one, at that. In the end, both protagonist and reader are left with, not much of anything, really. At best, a lesson learned; often one about appreciating what you have. Ironically, and supremely, dissatisfying. 

That's where I find myself at the end of 2012. I have had my dream job for all of three months, and next month will probably be my last. I don't want to go too deeply into it, but suffice it to say that new management wants to bring in her own people and I am not one of them. I am a contractor and I had hoped to be asked to stay, but it will probably not happen. The dream is ending and I am struggling not to wake up. 

I know all of this seems overly dramatic. It's just a job, after all. But if you were to look through years and years of my journals, they are mostly focused on the same thing - the need for a job that I love, for work that is meaningful and challenging. I have always believed in the notion of "life's work" but I have never found it. This is the closest I've ever come - something that I love pouring energy into, something that I am very, very good at, something I had hoped to do since finishing my Master's degree in 1999. It has taken over ten years for me to get this job, largely because I am not of academia. Few schools have so much as called me for an interview over the years. The one that did, over five years ago, offered me a job that I really wanted but couldn't take because the salary would not cover the cost of commuting and daycare. 

All of that doesn't even take into account the friends I've made even in this short period of time. This hasn't happened to me at work in years. Had I been there longer a few of these friendships might be lifelong. With only four months together, it's not likely. That saddens me greatly. The small kindnesses of friends during all this uncertainty have brought me to tears at times. How could people be so good and the situation be so painful all at once? 

So I go into 2013 with so much unknown. Will I get to keep this job? Will I find another one anything like it? Could I go back to corporate training now that I've finally gotten to do what I really wanted to? What's next for me?

I've spent much of this week looking for another job, and there are a few prospects. There will be more I'm not really worried about finding a job, recruiters have continued to contact me throughout my stint here. I'm worried about settling for a job. I've been doing what I do too damn long for that. 

One other thing - my husband got me an iPad for Christmas. When I'm done with this post, I'm going to set it up. The first thing that I will download is some kind of GRE study guide. I'm not sure how I'm going to do it yet, but I am going to go back to school. I've wanted to for years and years. Four years shy of 50, I can't wait any longer for the right time. 

Once upon a time 13 was my "lucky" number. For 2013, I"m going to need all the luck I can get. 

Happy New Year, friends. 

Thank you for everything!

 

Can I have a few minutes to work on my BLOG?

Sheesh!

I returned from BlogHer with the best of intentions and a huge ToDo list. I haven't gotten very far.

When I returned to work, I found out that the budget on my project was running thin -- so my time with them would be ending in two weeks. I had to then scramble to both finish what I had promised them and look for a new job.

I've also been trying to get the boys ready for school which starts next week. I hadn't gotten anything in terms of new clothes or school supplies, so I've been doing that in between interviews.

The good news is that, this time around, the job search has been much more productive than the one I undertook last winter. I was interviewing even before I left the project, which gave me hope, and within the last 48 hours, I applied, interviewed and accepted a dream job I thought I had no hope of getting. After 10 years of trying, I have finally gotten a job at a University. I accepted the offer this afternoon. I still can't believe it!

I will start the day after Labor Day, which means I will get a little bit of a break to get some paperwork in order and a couple of projects around the house, and oh, try to figure out what I am doing with this blog!

The Post BlogHer Post (finally)

 

The President speaks to a room full of bloggers via satellite

 

Perhaps it's a measure of how far blogging has evolved that a sitting President would take the time to speak via satellite to a room full of female bloggers. There were times that we couldn't hear what he was saying over the cheers, but it did get me thinking that there is a legitimacy to blogging, and online media of any kind, that is finally starting to be acknowledged.

This was only my second BlogHer. I went out to San Diego last year, but I was out there as a volunteer, and a newbie, and I felt more like a tourist. This time, I was more focused, and had certain things I wanted to get out of the experience.

I'm in a strange place as a blogger. I've been writing here for a long time, but I mostly fly under the radar in BlogHer circles. Some of this is intentional as I have been very cautious about letting people in my real life know about this blog, and some of it is about me not getting known around when it was still a small group looking for writers. If you read some of the other BlogHer recaps, many, many people are talking about how big it was, and how much it has changed. Last year's conference was pretty big too, so I'm not necessarily feeling the difference.

I'm also not a blogger who is necessarily looking to connect with brands (although this year, I wound up doing videos for a couple - more on that in another post), so most of those private parties that everyone gets excited about don't involve me. That's okay, really since this year I didn't even go to the conference sponsored parties because I had my family with me.

One invitation I did get however, is from a group I'm very much interested in. Although I have been politically active and aware for so many years, I have never made any kind of donation to a campaign until last year - to EMILY's List. So I was thrilled when Joanne included me in a list of bloggers to meet with Stephanie Schriock and a few EMILY's List candidates while we were in NYC.

This is Stephanie (left) with Senator Kirsten Gillibrand. We also met Grace Meng, who is running for a seat in Congress representing NY's 6th Congressional District.

It was also a nice opportunity for me to meet other political bloggers including Jill Miller Zimon who holds a seat on her city council in Ohio. 

The conference getting bigger and more influential meant that we had people like Martha Stewart and Katie Couric come talk to us via interviews with Lisa Stone.

My fascination with Martha Stewart is long past, but she is the ultimate business woman and role model of sorts. She's like Madonna in a lot of ways; you're not sure you'd want to be her, but there's a lot of respect for what she's accomplished.

Katie Couric surprised me. I don't watch a lot of network news, so what little I knew of her centered around a long ago discussion of whether she could handle hard news as an anchor (don't that that sweet personality fool you), and her interview with Sarah Palin. Katie impressed me, and if I was going to be home during the day, I might give her new show a try. Many of us in the political/isssues presentation were talking about how to get more women engaged in the issues, and we agreed that it would take a big name, like Oprah, coming into their living rooms in an approachable way, every day. Katie could certainly do that.

The Romney campaign missed a huge opportunity here. They have a large gender gap to overcome, and yet they declined to speak to the women at this conference. This was a moment to make Ann Romney the human face of the campaign. I realize that she was in London at the time, but hello new media and telecommunications.... 

That the conference has grown so much had its drawbacks. The EXPO floor was in several different places and really overwhelming. Since their sponsorship makes the parts of the conference that I am interested in possible, that's all I'll say about it. Several of the sessions were filled to capacity (the geek bar needs to be expanded). Some of the presenter/panels felt unfocused and disjointed. Some were great. If there was a recurring theme in my head through each session, it was this: I wish that more of the sessions were in a workshop format, because the Q&A and breakout group parts were really the most valuable. Also - presenters need to use the laptops in each of the rooms to display visuals and takeaways. I say this as someone who has designed learning programs for most of her career.

Finally, for someone who grew up in the tri-state area, this is the most time I have ever spent in New York City. We were not in the conference hotel (and for that I am grateful) but way uptown; we walked around a lot and loved it. This die-hard Bostonian was surprised and impressed by New York. I'm jealous that they still have so many bookstores. Piper surprised me by saying that he wouldn't mind living there if it wasn't so expensive. It is though, and that makes it prohibitive.

 And when the city gets overwhelming, there's always Central Park.

I'

I am at BlogHer

I am at BlogHer in NYC this week, getting excited and re-energized about writing and blogging.

 

My family is with me and they are enjoying being in NYC for the first time. Piper is herding the kids through the crowds.

I so appreciate the dedicated time to just focus on where my writing is going. I'm finding that my approach to BlogHer is a lot more serious this time. I feel a lot more focused and realistic about what I need to learn and do. I'm not as overwhelmed and exhausted as I was last year. Being in the same time zone and not having a cold probably helps, but it's only been a few hours and I have had several interesting conversations (still not an extrovert, but getting better at talking with strangers). The hug from Goon Squad Sarah though, made my morning. Nice people are awesome!

I am really trying to commit to this space again even if it is going to be less and less about parenting.

I've gotten some positive feedback for my ideas around Artifactual and hope to have people contributing so I can really build it into something.

If you landed here because we met in NYC, please leave a comment so we can reconnect online.

Artifactual is open!

I can think of no better way to begin the Artifactual  project than with the story of my grandmother's Scrabble set.

 I'm still hoping that this site will mostly feature the work of contributors writing about the objects that they have saved on the journey of life and what those ojects have meant to them. I am hoping that people will contribute pictures and stories of the things they value, and in the process doument a little more of the history that they share. I tend to think of these objects as antiques, but they don't have to be.

What have you hung onto? What has it meant to you? Get in touch with me. 

You can follow the blog on Twitter @Artifactualblog and I'll follow you back. Or you can email me at LATELIERDELISSE AT YAHOO DOT COM.

(Mis)Adventures in Social Media

Hi, I'm back. I feel like I fell off a cliff there for a while. I hate that. I get going in a particular direction and it's all good, but then I drive into a rotary and can't decide which exit to take.

So while mentally traveling around in small circles for the last week or so, I've been puttering around on various social media outlets trying to set up connections for Artifactual. It's been slow going. I tried to create a page for it on Facebook, but when I try to link the blog to it, it only wants to post to my personal page. As I struggle to keep the last vestiges of my semi-anonymous blogging life away from my family, I do NOT want them to make that connection. I still can't get it to work. The only option I can see is setting up a separate account for Artifactual, but apparently Facebook frowns on that sort of thing. I think I may have to share posts to Artifactual's FB page by hand. I also cannot figure out how to get a FB badge from the Artifactual FB page to put on the actual blog. I can get one from my personal page, but that defeats the purpose. What a pain!

Google Plus. Okay. I'm on it. Now what? I have "Circled" my SIL and one of my husband's cousins, both of whom have reciprocated. I've also added a handful of bloggers who don't know me well and have no idea I've linked to them. And while I love the idea of the hangout feature, I don't yet know enough people on Google Plus to have one. The functionality is fabulous enough that while the rest of Google Plus will probably never catch up to Facebook and Twitter and will eventually wither away, the hangout will thrive, as it is both useful and fun.

Muppet break! Frustrations notwithstanding, this ad makes me smile every time:

 

And while I have never been a huge fan of either Queen or David Bowie, I have loved this song since the first time I heard it back in High School. It never gets old.

Moving on...

So maybe you've heard of the next big thing - Pinterest? I've been avoiding it because what I saw of it early on looked like an endless Anthropologie catalog.  Just what I don't need when I'm not working. But hearing about how fast it grew and its usefulness as a content sharing site, I thought it might be useful for Artifactual once it gets off the ground and decided to get lost in try it. 

As kids my sister and I used to sit around leafing through my mother's stacks of ridiculously priced catalogs and claiming numerous items for our future houses and closets with no concept of how to actually pay for them.  Pinterest is exactly that impulse with some organization and quirky captioning. It is a lovely time suck. As someone who does not do a whole lot of shopping (though my husband might beg to differ), I just had no idea there were so many things in the world. Of course there are annoyances, like the repetition of images that multiple people have repinned, and the overwhelming desire to delete things you don't want to look at (not possible). The whole thing reminds me of the stuff we used to cut out of magazines and tape to our dorm walls in college; beautiful clothes, beautiful people, pithy sayings, and an overabundance of food. There are some truly stunning things to see at but in less than three days I was sick of the mustache as a design element. Stop, please.

As of this writing, I still haven't accumulated any followers. I'm Lisse13 on Pinterest. By the way if you haven't yet seen Pinterest, You Are Drunk, you should.

On Saturday, I did something really crazy and drove across the state to attend a PodCamp.  They have a version of this in Boston, but I just missed it. I got up earlier than I have for weeks and drove over two hours to Holyoke Community College. I wasn't sure whether I belonged there, but it was a very mixed group of professionals - marketers, audio engineers, videographers, photographers, and people who ran small businesses in need of better understanding the tools. I figured I was there to mostly learn, but I was surprised by how much I talked. As SoMe enthusiasts go, I'm still pretty much an amateur, but that even made it clear that there are many others who are interested in these tools with even less knowledge and more floundering. I came away from that event thinking of the many small businesses on the North Shore that could use an event like this...

Wheels aturnin'. Stay tuned.

For Susan

Susan Niebur; astrophysicist, blogger, mom, lived with Inflammatory Breast Cancer and metastasis for five years. She passed away Monday, leaving her husband, two small sons, and a legion of inspired women.

I never did get the chance to meet her in person. She left a comment on this blog a couple of years ago and opened my eyes to a whole new world. At the time I don't think her writing was all that focused on cancer, but on the challenges of being a woman in planetary science and a mother of two small boys.

I've never liked that topics such as education and women's health get turned into political arguments because it threatens to trivialize the importance of the lives affected by those arguments. Two years ago, Susan wrote eloquently about the importance of action over awareness, and followed up with a list of actions to take and organizations supporting those actions. Interesting to note that there are no pink ribbons among them.

In the last post on her blog, Toddler Planet, her husband wrote:

In lieu of flowers, please consider furthering Susan’s legacy through a contribution to the Inflammatory Breast Cancer Research Foundation. Or please choose to make a difference somewhere, anywhere, to anyone.

Susan made a difference to me and to many women. Sometimes that's the most important thing we can do in any lifetime.

A Gift from Afghanistan

As my brother-in-law makes his way back to Germany from Afghanistan, I thought I would share what he sent to me for Christmas. My husband told him that I would appreciate something from the country and he was right.

From the enclosed note:

The shawl is from Mazar e Sharif...renowed for its skilled workers in fabric-related endeavors (weaving, rugmaking, etc.). I figured there was a greater chance of you wearing it if I got you this wool/cotton combo instead of camel fur...the camel fur here is from real camels and smells like -- camels.

The candle holder is a little tricky. It's easiest if you hold it upside down with your left hand, grab the bulb-like part and spin the base in a counter-clockwise direction. When you turn it rightside up, the leaves will fall down and you can see the small bowl-like receptacle for the candle or pyramid-shaped incense.

Not sure what the turtle base signifies, but the images of Buddha on the leaves indicate that this was made in Bamiyan. That's the central part of the country where we went and had a meeting with the first and only female governor. That part of the country is gorgeous with the pristine landscape, extremely nice people and archeological wonders.

I was thrilled with these gifts, but it probably won't surprise you that I loved the story behind them, and that they came from halfway across the world.

It is this sort of thing that I'm hoping to showcase on my new blog Artifactual .

I am hoping that people will contribute pictures and stories of the things they value, and in the process doument a little more of the history that they share. I tend to think of these objects as antiques, but they don't have to be. Heck, I have an entire collection of concert tickets that I've kept because they represent who I was at a specific period in time.

The Artifactual site will be officially launching at the end of January. If you have something to share, whether it is a family heirloom, or something you have kept for sentimental reasons, please contact me with a photo and description at LATELIERDELISSE AT YAHOO DOT COM.

Just stick a fork in the GOP, they're done.

So before he is set to give a SOTU speech that 91% of viewers approved after hearing, President Obama gives the order for a daring hostage rescue from a bunch of Somali pirates. He gives the speech, leaves Mitch Daniels to stammer on about being pro-poverty, and calls the father of the rescued woman to let him know that she's safe.

Damn!

 

Tom Clancy, are you getting this?

That House

"This is where he shot himself," my friend said in a low voice. "This is where he died."

We were standing in my playroom full of dollhouses and Tonka trucks. I also thought of it as the schoolroom thanks to the presence of a large double students' desk;  where a pupil might scratch a quill over a sheet of foolscap under the watchful eye of a tutor or governess. The room had once been someone's study. The bare wood floors and the rustic cabinets along the wall lent an air of masculinity that was different from the rest of the large, stone, English-style house. The cabinets held our old school books, games and some dress-up dolls with their clothes, but I could see they were tall enough to have held hunting rifles. 

My friend had grown up in the area. I met her when I spotted her and her sister cimbing around on the rocks in front of the house. She was in a position to have heard rumors about the previous owners.

I do not know why I never asked my mother about that story. Maybe I did, and she dismissed it as my usual histrionics - the word she used often when I was upset about something.

My mother first saw the house from the Yacht Club across the harbor. We had stopped to use the bathroom. She didn't notice it until she was coming back down the dock to my uncle's boat. "Tom," she said to my father, "that's what I want for my birthday."

Local realtors dismissed them for years. "That house will never go on the market. It will never be for sale. Let's look for something else." 

And then, very suddenly, it was. For a song.

The house was our summer home for a few years until my father died and we moved into it full-time. My mother wanted to get out of New Jersey and closer to her family in Connecticut where she could start her antique business. It was the kind of house dramatic British novels took place in. Think Atonement.

When I started going to the local High School, the rare friends I brought home would inevitably say, as we rounded the bend in the drive "You live in that house?" One friend in particular drove me crazy looking for secret passageways. We never found any, but the house was full of places to hide from the reality of living there.

Fierce winter storms remind me of nights in that house. It was surrounded on three sides by water and the wind raged constantly after dark. It sounded of anger and despair outside  - and in.

Our lives in that house were not the stuff of novels. Nothing dramatic happened  while we were there, but it was not a happy place to live. A house like that should have been teeming with guests to put the beach and the rooms and my mother's collections of dinnerware to good use. After my father died, my mother's parents started declining and their eventual deaths led to a split in the family my mother had moved there to be close to. Terrified of losing control of her kids, she sought to keep our world as small as possible, even though, as adolescents, our instinct was to pursue broadened horizons.

It would have been far more prudent to sell the house. Heating and upkeep were ungodly expensive, and my mother was never able to renovate the kitchen the way she and my father had planned. She was trying to run a business, always complaining about the cost of things like phone calls, but it was as if the house was some kind of fortress and to leave it would have been a humiliating defeat.

She finally did sell it when we were grown and moved away. Helping her clean out the house was probably the most emotionally difficult thing I have ever done. I wound up in charge of operations because my mother, normally in control of every detail, was wandering around in small circles, not knowing what to do first. 

I found pictures I had never seen of my parents' wedding. I found photos of my mother's first child who died before I was born. I found an enormous collection of portraits of me as a baby - because she was afraid she might lose me too. There were never any personal photos hung in the house. All of the portraits on the walls were of long-dead people we were not related to posing in wicker chairs.  I found diaries I had written for the years that I lived there, and disposed of them before I got all the way through them. Aside from the embarrassing teenaged crushes and unrealistic hopes for my future, it was all so sad.

I do have a few happy memories of that house - writing little skits for my cousins to act out on their holiday visits (again, think Atonement); the construction crews that filled the house when my father was having it renovated;  learning to slide down the enormous bannister; getting married there surrounded by the friends I had managed to collect and the new, much happier family I was marrying into, the mournful sound of seagulls in the gray early morning.

It looks like the kind of house that gets passed down through the generations, but there's a new family living there now. They've added a tennis court and restored the pool. I'm sure they've renovated the kitchen and a dozen other things my father never finished.  I'll never know the answer to this of course, but I do wonder if there lives there are happy.