Category: My Life

Dec 30

How a Dream Assignment Reminded Me Where My Passions Lie

Despite feeling swamped with work, I’ve also been feeling like all the world is a possibility. This is largely in part because my clients are doing well and would like more of my time. I feel like I’ve finally made it through the toughest part of the building phase and have been starting to feel a sense of financial stability again. The problem now is that there isn’t enough time to do it all.

But from this vantage point — that of a busy and in-demand freelancer — I feel it’s time to look beyond the goal of replacing my previous salary to increasing productivity, figuring out how to scale the business and make more money without feeling like I’m constantly working. I’ve also been weighing my desire to write against the desire to edit and asking myself, what’s next.

And then a friend sent me an email about a writing assignment. His company was having an event and he wanted me to write a feature. We had been talking about his need a feature writer, so it wasn’t a complete surprise. If I was available despite the short notice, they would cover the travel expenses and pay me a nice fee for the article.

Now, the all-expenses-paid travel assignment is a rare find for today’s freelance writers. I’ve heard tale from more seasoned freelance writers of this type of assignment, but even most of those who did travel for assignments before, say that type of work has practically dried up. Unless, of course, what you write about is travel.

It just so happened that I was having a slow week, so I said yes. And with just a few days notice, I flew off to Phoenix to cover a an event at an up-and-coming software company called Infusionsoft.

I was excited and anxious but when I arrived at the Infusionsoft offices, the atmosphere was simply magic. The air was buzzing and in the center of it all was this event they called the 48-Hour Implementation Accelerator, which is what I was there to write about. Without giving away too much (because the story is pending — more on that later), I’ll just say that this assignment was like a dream and I hope to do more like it. And it wasn’t just because the client was very organized and friendly. It’s not entirely because of the travel, which I’m sure will continue to be rare. (But I’m totally vying for one of the two blogger positions at Infusioncon.)

This was a dream assignment because I was writing about something new and interesting. I have always enjoyed event coverage, interviewing people and writing the story. I was there to write a story and it felt good. It also reminded me that while I love editing and it pays most of the bills, writing is where my heart is.

When I got home I picked up a gift from long time mentor Erin Gruwell, a bookmark that read “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.” And now I’m asking myself how I can incorporate more of my heart into my work and move closer to realizing my dream of making a living as a writer. Being the O.C. guide is a start, but I want more.

And all it took the trip to Phoenix and Infusionsoft for me to realize what the more was that I wanted. Now I’m at a fork in the road, and no matter which way I turn, the possibilities are endless.

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Dec 10

How My Notebook Saved My Sanity

Lately I’ve been feeling swamped with work. While the Summer found me struggling to make ends meet, the new season brought with it a different type of windfall. This is exciting for sure, considering that just under a year ago, I left my full-time gig as a staff editor at Entrepreneur magazine in favor of launching into the deep pool of freelance entrepreneurship and already I’ve secured contracts for enough revenue to replace my editor’s salary.

But I want more. To go beyond replacing my previous salary and the feeling that I am constantly working.

It was easy to exercise regularly and maintain a strict eight-to-four, no working-on-weekends schedule when business I was mostly prospecting and negotiating. Now that the fruits of that labor have come in, I’m struggling to find balance between work and life — the main reason I chose the freelance path to begin with.

So I begin looking into project management systems and productivity tools. But these usually add another step, something else that I have to factor into my workload, and ultimately the return is just another time suck.

And then I started just writing things in a notebook. After so many years of writing for the internet, including this here blog that doubles as my personal journal, I had gotten away from physically writing things down. The trouble with this was that my dependence on a computer or some other form of technology left gaps in my ability to simply jot down notes, reminders and ideas. When I started writing things down, I was able to unpack all of those thoughts and have something to reference in the future.

I started using my notebook to sketch out editorial plans and calendars, to outline proposals and jot down project ideas. The result of this mind-mapping strategy is that the ideas and plans are nearly completely formulated by the time I sit down to translate them into working documents, whatever form those documents may take. Where before I kept a running list in my head, now I write to-do lists for the day in my notebook and feel accomplished by the end of the day when I have crossed most of the items off.

After just a week of doing this, I can tell I’m going to need another notebook. But most importantly, my brain feels less cluttered and I am feeling less overwhelmed.

How’s that for a back-to-basics solution to my productivity problem? I wonder how many others out there find that the are able to organize their thoughts, and manage time and energy better by simply writing things down?

Image © Daehyun Park

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Nov 18

Enlightened Racism in the Supposed “Post Racial” Era

Growing up as I did, going to predominantly upper middle-class white schools, I’m no stranger to being treated like the representative for the “Black perspective.” This happened quite often during cultural discussions in high school and even collegiate classes, when I was asked to weigh in on something that had to do with something or someone in African American culture, simply because I am an African American.

I thought I had escaped this sort of enlightened racism, until recently when I was approached by a fellow regular at the local coffee shop.

“I hate to put you on the spot…” the gentleman said. “But I gotta ask: What do you think about Herman Cain.”

Personally, I don’t spend much time thinking about Herman Cain. But just a few days earlier, I had listened to an episode of Rachael Maddow where she made a compelling argument for Cain as political satire.

I chuckled though, and responded, “I think he’s a joke, pretending to run for presendent as a PR campaign for his new book.”

“Oh?” I could see the wheels grinding, the man was trying to process what I had said. “Why do you think that?”

I explained that Cain had made references to “the great poet” Pokemon and his 9-9-9 tax plan was something out of a video game. His campaign didn’t make sense to me and, as far as I was concerned, Cain was no more likely to run for president than Donald Trump.

In one ear and out the other.

“Y’know, I like him,” the gentleman said. And then he launched into a rambling tyrade of Republican talking points, why he liked or disliked various Blacks in politics and his experience with “minorities” from his military days.

While some might have engaged the man further, I decided it best to just let him get this out of his system. He hadn’t even really listened to what I said and if he had, it was clear, he really didn’t care. He wanted to have a discussion about Black things with a Black person, and I was the only one he knew.

But he didn’t want to talk. He wanted me to listen. And he couldn’t understand why I didn’t agree that these black politicians were so great…even though the only ones I knew of were President Obama and Herman Cain.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe the man is a racist. We had had small conversations about various things in our visits to the coffee shop. But I was reminded that while most of us are unaware of our prejudices, we are far from being a “post racial” society.

Yes, I’m Black. I’m also American. I live about as far from the epicenter of Black culture in California as one can get, being behind the “Orange Curtain.” And yet, somehow, this man thought I was the authority on all things African American.

The problem as I see it, is that as a society, the US is still very much a segregated nation — and no one wants to talk about it. The result is racist behavior born of ignorance. And people of color being treated like a novelty as opposed to regular citizens of a multicultural nation.

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Oct 06

The Battle is On

Not so long ago, I shared my feelings of despair about watching the American Dream being dismantled and the new battle for civil rights. Recently though, this despair has turned into hope as the nation has been swept by Occupy Wall Street and other aligned acts of civil disobedience.

It would seem that the working class people of the United States are starting to wake up out of their complacent consumer daze. Where at first the media treated the story as if it was non-existent, they later began dismissing the protests with “what do they want” spin.

But as police violence has erupted in the New York epicenter of the Occupy Wall Street movement and the media worked to spin the protests as the act of the “entitlement generation” and without direction, the movement continued to grow. It grew from one small group in New York (who has been there for nearly a month), to groups in Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and talks of more in cities across the country.

Indeed it is time for all of us to recall the sacrifices made by previous generations who fought for civil rights and freedom before, the sacrifices being made now, and what our own contributions will be to this grass-roots movement for change.

Yes, watching the videos of the police pepper spraying protesters and beating them with batons is scary. The threat of being arrested for standing up against injustice is scary. But being afraid is part of what has gotten us where we are to day and not standing is simply providing consent.

Standing in the face of such violent opposition may well be the only way to get the attention of those in power — the people who are elected to serve and represent the people — and remind them that we will not stand by and watch the republic be ruined by greed. We the people, must stand, and remind our government who it is truly accountable to.

Are you ready to stand?

Image via _PaulS_

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Sep 29

Sometimes We Get Stuck

I have a confession to make: I’m having what I’ll call a blogging crisis. As I’ve written more and more about motherhood, I’ve felt more lost about my content focus. I’ve never considered myself a “mommy blogger” in the sense that I wrote about my children; I’m more of a writer who mothers.

So when I had all these ideas start to pile up about the lessons I’m learning on the journey to figure out exactly how I want to live my life as a free agent, I felt stuck.

And so I didn’t write. And then I felt bad because I hadn’t written anything and didn’t know how to get back to where I wanted my focus to be. How do I go from the boy playing football to reflecting on life and the things I’ve learned since jumping into the freelance waters? How to I bring my reflections back to introspection, rather than musing about my child?

Some would say, I could start a separate blog to focus on all my interests. It sounds simple in theory, but seriously, who has time for multiple blogs to maintain when they’ve got a business to run?

So again, I feel like I’m starting over, and I seem to do this once in a while. Sometimes I just need to step back to get some perspective on where I’m going and what I’m doing. Sometimes, I just need a break.

But because I am so compelled to share, I’ll always come back. Hopefully, you’ll stay on the ride with me, even when it gets stuck.

Image © Anna Tesar

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Aug 09

Stay Low, Keep Your Head Up and Keep Your Feet Moving

Yesterday they started hitting. I knew it was coming, that’s part of what football is about after all. It’s that fearless willingness to go running full force, into another human being, in the name of the game.

But I’ve never seen the first day. And when the coaches put the boys into three lines with, three experienced players defending the “in zone,” and I heard the sound of helmets crashing together, I winced. Over and over. I thought, “this can’t be normal,” and listened to murmurs from the other moms that they had never seen anything like this before.

I looked around the field and saw the other teams doing various versions of first day contact and I was afraid for my skinny little skater boy. One of the three defenders was going to hit him. My heart raced as he got closer to the front of line and other boys walked away either pumped or looking shocked. Was the boy really ready for this?

The answer quickly became no, when he cried after being hit and was sent to me to get some water. “They crush my rib!” He snatched off his helmet as I assured him his ribs were fine. “No, seriously. I heard it crunch.”

I touched his ribs, poking and watching for signs of pain. Nothing. “You’re fine,” I said. But I wanted to take my baby and go home. Still, I resisted the urge to coo sweet mommy-ness all over him when he said he wanted to go home.

“Just get through practice,” I told him.

“I almost bit my tongue,” he whined. “This mouth guard isn’t working.”

“Tell your coach and ask him what you should do,” I said.

He looked toward the field and pulled his helmet on. “How much longer?”

“7:30.”

“So just another 30 minutes?”

I was snapping his chin strap. “Yep.”

“Ok,” he said. “I can do this.”

I pulled his face mask close. “No fear boy.”

He nodded and ran back to the line.

I continued to be concerned through the rest of practice and everyone asked how the boy was doing. He was a little intimidated, I told one dad, who later gave the boy some pointers. Stay low, keep your head up and keep your feet moving.

I went over these three things with the boy later as we did some stretches before bed. I also told him about overhearing the coaches and parents talking about the kids who would give up before the week was over.

“Do you want to be one of those kids?”

“No,” the boy said softly.

“Look at me,” I said. “Are you going to be one of the kids who gives up the first week of contact?”

The boy lifted his chin and looked me in the eye. “No.”

“Alright,” I said. “Now get your stankin’ ass in the shower.”

Image via jdanvers/Flicker

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Jul 07

Are You Ready to Join the Ranks of Urban Bicyclists?

I’ve been commuting by bike for over a year now but people are always surprised and sometimes amazed that I can survive without a car in Southern California.

First of all, it didn’t start off as being a choice. I was abruptly confronted with not being able to afford the luxury of a car and I wanted an efficient way to get around town. Despite Southern California’s deeply ingrained car culture and the fact that people think biking for transportation is dangerous, I find it quite fun and efficient.

I bike pretty much everywhere now, unless I get a ride or have lots of errands to run (and then I just rent). I don’t have to deal with sitting in traffic. I don’t have to deal with the gas prices. I don’t have to deal with the maintenance. I don’t have to deal with a car note, registration, insurance…Now I know that California car culture is an albatross around our necks.

And a stressful one. It wasn’t until I stopped driving that I realized how stressful it can be. Now I spend a lot more time doing things besides driving and cycling around means that fitness is automatically incorporated into my lifestyle.

Urban bicycling is becoming more popular in some parts of Southern California. This is probably a result of rising gas prices. There is some evidence that urban bicycling improves the quality of life for urban dwellers. This quality of life improvement is attributed partially to the increased activity, but also to the reduced stress of not having to get in a car to go everywhere. When you add to it the earth friendliness of not hopping in the car to make a 5 minute trip to the local convenience store, you’ll see the benefits of urban cycling really start to add up.

You absolutely have to consider the city you live in before you decide to become an urban bicycle commuter. In most SoCal cities, bicyclists must content with motor traffic, that isn’t prepared for the reality that California vehicle code considers bikes vehicles and should be treated as such.

Does you city have bike paths? If not, is the right hand of the roadway wide enough for you to ride without impeding the flow of traffic? (NOTE: This not a legal consideration, just a safety one. Remember bicyclists have just as much right to the road as car drivers do). Are there lots of blind curves where cars zip around and hit you before they even see you there? What’s the city cycling population like? If there is a significant number of cyclists on the road regularly, a lack of bike lanes might not be a problem.

The cars aren’t the only thing to take into consideration though. The biggest complaint of car drivers is that bicyclists are inconsiderate and don’t obey traffic laws. As an urban cyclist, I’ve seen the recklessness of others on bikes. I’ve seen people ignore red lights and stop signs. I’ve seen people cross lanes to make a left turn, when oncoming traffic seemed dangerously close. I’ve seen people ride down the wrong side of the road, against the flow of traffic. All of these things put the cyclist, not the car, in danger. As a general rule, urban bicyclist fair best when they are treated — and behave — like they are part of regular traffic.

Riding on the sidewalk is also dangerous. If you’re on your bike, you are not a pedestrian, and you actually present a hazard to those who are. And if you ride against traffic on the sidewalk, you are at risk of not being seen by cars coming out of driveways (they should look both ways, but often they only look in the direction of oncoming traffic).

Last, but certainly not least, I recommend that anyone riding a bike wear a helmet. I see people biking all over town, safely and recklessly, and 90% of them without helmets. California law only requires children under 18 to wear a helmet while biking, but when you’re an urban cyclist you need all the protection you can get. And guess what, the helmet is ALL THE PROTECTION YOU GET. Wear one.

Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, go out and join the increasing ranks of urban cyclists. You can start small, but I’m betting you’ll find that with all the sun and the dopamine produced by the increased activity, bicycling around town will become one of your favorite past times.

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Jun 20

Of Mourning, Lost Time and Last Words

I had a feeling this day would be arriving sooner than I was comfortable with admitting. And still I kept telling myself there would be more time. Another Christmas to pop in and sit with him for a while. Another Mother’s Day that maybe we’d have brunch together. Another day I could call and just tell him I love him.

But time ran out and now I’m left with this mourning.

My brother called before sunrise to tell me that our dad had passed. Only, he couldn’t actually say it. He was just crying and I didn’t need him to say the thing I knew he couldn’t say. So I said it for him. And for a moment, I felt myself go numb.

My dad had been very sick for a long time. He had been depressed and lonely since losing the love of his life to breast cancer. He hadn’t been the daddy I remembered for many years and we had grown apart.

As I got older, I started feeling like maybe I never knew my dad very well. He was an emotionally-closed man of few words. But somehow I always knew that he loved me. And I loved him. And we loved each other the best way we knew how.

Unfortunately, when I wasn’t making the effort, we went long stretches without seeing each other. The kid in me wanted her daddy to just pick up the phone and call her. The adult in me wanted the kid to get over it and call dad. And I did, once…about a year ago.

He was in the hospital and I was afraid that would be my last chance to talk to him. I asked him if I should visit and he told me he’d call me when he got home — which, of course, he never did. As we talked I asked him about his health and he spun me some bullshit about being ok. I wanted to believe him, but I knew he wasn’t well. Still, I didn’t push. We had a short conversation before we ran out of things to say and began our goodbyes.

“Dad,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kimberlee.”

And those were the last words we said to each other.

The next time I saw him, he was in the hospital again. This time in a diabetic coma and even more frail than I remembered. I almost didn’t recognize him. I sat next to his bed wishing I knew more about his condition…hoping he’d wake up and I would have one more chance to talk to him.

That was three weeks ago and today I got the call I had been expecting — and dreading. And while I wish I had been brave enough to visit him in recent years, I am so grateful that the last thing we said to each other was “I love you.”

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Jun 15

Worry Edges Out Possibilities and Happiness

Don't worry, be happyMy sister often talks about how I am her example of how faith works. She’s seen me take risks and believe that the universe would return my willingness with abundant prosperity; and it has. For most of us, the problem isn’t that there aren’t opportunities and possibilities, its that we give into the fear and worry.

But there is one basic principal that got me on the path of shifting my perception away from lack and limitation to limitless possibilities.

I stopped worrying.

The concept is deceptively simple. I like to plan. I like to create structure around myself. I don’t like when things don’t go the way I plan them and I am still learning to be a good steward over my finances. But through all of life’s ups and downs, I’ve learned that worrying just gets in the way.

Ultimately the worry is fear. And fear doesn’t focus on possibilities. It puts the focus squarely on the problem and magnifies it so you feel helpless. The helplessness turns into stress and then you find yourself unable to rest or focus on anything other than whatever your current worry is. And some people worry all the time. That must be a stressful life.

I made a conscious decision not to worry and since then, when stressors come, I have learned to trust that everything will work itself out. It took years to get to this place where I can simply trust that things will work for the good. Yes, that’s right. I trust that things will work in my favor. After years of going through life’s peaks and valleys, I’ve learned that worry edges out the ability to see possibilities, and creates more stress.

And, really. Who needs that much stress in their lives? I sure don’t

Instead of worrying and focusing on the problem, when something comes up, I first evaluate what I can do about it. If there are actions I can take immediately to resolve the problem, I get to work. If there’s no immediate action that can be taken and I feel worry start to creep up, I remember that I have never gone hungry or been without shelter. In fact, my life has constantly improved and I have always been able to take care of my kids. I remind myself that through it all, I have come through a stronger, wiser and happier person.

Most of us spend our days worrying so much that we don’t even know we’re worried. But the key is to begin changing the way you think and shifting your perception away from the fear, to something more productive. Over time, when life knocks you over the head, you’ll be less compelled by that internal trigger that wants to focus all energies on “OMG OMG WHAT EVER WILL I DO?” Instead, you’ll be able to handle life’s stressors with a clear head, rather the being beholden to the negative what ifs.

Image via Evil Erin

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Jun 08

Parents Can Get Together to Teach Kids Respect For Each Other

This isn’t a movie review for the movie I’ve never seen with the same title. Instead, its an expression of pride in teh collective parenting my neighbors and I are doing.

About a month ago, the Boy came into the house crushed and crying that his friends had told him he wasn’t Christian. While my first impulse was to say, “So the-fuck-what,” I could tell he was very hurt by the assertion that his spiritual foundation was false. Instead, I asked him why they had said this…had he done something to provoke such a response?

He told me that he and the girls had gotten into a disagreement and that he pushed one of them. One of them responded to his violence toward her friend by questioning his faith.

Clearly, she had no real understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ beyond the concept that hurting others was wrong. It was a good place to start, but her assertion indicated a youthful ignorance that resulted in behavior that was hurtful to someone she called a friend.

I talked to the boy about spirituality being personal and the concept of being Christian meaning to follow Christ’s example of love and decided to let him try to work things out on his own.

But then it happened again. And again nearly a month later, this time with a group of girls cornering the boy at the water fountain to taunt and yell and threaten to beat him up.

This was the point at which I decided to contact the teacher and request that she take action. I also decided that since most of the taunters lived in our building, that I would talk to their parents. The good news is that the parents were sympathetic and agreed that the kids should not be picking on each other. And since then, the kids have been playing nicely together.

We tend to react to bullying in one of two ways as parents: either we ignore it in the expectation that the kids can negotiate their own conflicts, or we get way too involved taking on the defender position which can often make things worse. Sometimes though, parents can band together and teach kids to respect one another.

Thats what me and the other parents here did. We all agreed that the kids didn’t have to be friends, but we didn’t want them to be mean to one another.

It was a teachable moment for all involved.

Image © katclay

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