Friday, September 27, 2013

Feelings Friday: Negativity

If you have a Pinterest account, you are probably used to seeing pictures like the following appear in your feed:







These quotes and phrases are so pervasive on Pinterest that they occupy their own category on the site. They are usually written in indie, hand-written fonts that fall on some kind of nature backdrop. They are words we can all probably get behind on principle, and they spread like wildfire.

But what if in the midst of all of these beautiful thoughts, something less hopeful also existed? Something more like this:


The natural response to seeing something like this on Pinterest would probably be a deep gasp followed by screaming, NO! WHO MADE THIS?! STOP THE INTERNET! STOP IT!

That image up there is ridiculous. I should know because I made it. 

We know that negative messages like this one are not the sorts of things that the world needs more of. It's frightening to imagine our friends, siblings, or children reading, and possibly believing, something that might reduce their sense of self-worth. We know that for them to believe such things would be akin to a lie. That is why we have so many kind people layering nice statements with cute fonts atop backdrops of lakes. 

It's a good system. I have no problem with it.

At the same time, while we don't want these thoughts entering the minds of our loved ones, we tend to have no problem letting them fester in our own minds. Where we see a statement like "you are the worst" as being profoundly untrue for our best friend, it doesn't seem like such a stretch in regards to ourselves and our own mistakes. I would argue that many of the things we would never say to other human beings, we often end up saying to ourselves.


This is called negative self-talk. 

I'm sure you've heard of it before.

I'm sure you are morally against it. 

If you're like me, I'm sure that doesn't stop you from doing it.


The reason that this behavior is so easy to perpetuate is that it exists in secret. When you call yourself an idiot, you don't have someone else there to tell you how crazy that sounds. So then that negative thought meets another negative thought, and they breed to create even worse thoughts. It's a tough cycle to break.


But what would happen if we offered the same forgiveness to ourselves that we offer to the ones we love? When they make mistakes, we tell them all of the ways that it will be okay. When they express that they feel less than confident, we respond by saying that they are beautiful, gifted, and loved. And we're not lying. 

Yet we believe we are kidding ourselves if we offer our minds hope. We assume that any kind words we say to ourselves must be lies, but they are actually the opposite of lies: anti-lies, or as some might call them, truth.


There is a reason that images like these are so cringe-worthy. To juxtapose horrible comments with such lovely depictions of the world seems antagonizing, criminal even. Feel free to lock me up.

But before you do that, let's make a deal. Let's try this week to catch ourselves in the lies we want to tell ourselves, and let's instead pile on a bunch of truth. The kind of truth you tell your friend when she's hurting -- tell that stuff to yourself. Let's stop making our minds a breeding ground for negativity because that's just gross. Instead, let's make it a battleground where all of those lies lose in a really unfair fight, and then let's just all be awesome and, I don't know, have some cake or something. 

Cool? Cool.

Do you have any other tips for fighting negative self-talk? 
Leave it in the comments-section!

Thursday, September 26, 2013

A Bit More Advice for My Thirteen-Year-Old Self

I recently wrote a post which included some advice I would give to my thirteen-year-old self. At the time, I couldn't find any pictures of myself from back then. I have a box full of them, but sadly, I can't find it right now. The other day, a friend of mine posted this glorious picture on Facebook, and I jumped for joy in response to what a treasure it is. It brought me immediately back to a time of lockers and gel pens. Today, I would like to share it with all of you. Maybe it will take you back too.



The five women circled are me and my best friends. Can you spot which one is me? Here's a hint: I'm the one who looks most like Professor Snape.


This is a picture of my 6th grade choir class. That green sequined dress that we are all collectively wearing was our performance attire, and it was 90% of the reason I joined choir in the first place. 

After seeing this picture, there are a couple of additions I would like to make to the letter I wrote to thirteen-year-old Christy. I hope you will oblige me.

Dear Thirteen-Year-Old Christy, 
I'm sorry to take you away from watching TRL, but I have just a few more things to say. I'll be quick.
You know that sequined dress you wear for choir concerts? That one that everyone seems to hate wearing except for you? In 8th grade, you will steal it and it will hang in your closet for many years to come. I still stand by that decision, even though stealing is technically wrong, but damn girl, you look great in that dress. Wear the hell out of that thing. It will come back in vogue, I promise.

Also, Christy, you're doing a good thing surrounding yourself with a bunch of bright, caring, funny girls. Do that always. There will come a time where you start to tell people that you just want to be friends with guys because they don't cause drama. That is garbage. Your fellow girls will always be there to challenge you, uplift you, and hold a mirror to all of your terrible and wonderful decisions. They also give the best advice. Speaking of which, man, Christy, I wish you had access to this video series:

Anyway, girl, I love you. Keep working those sequins and learning that math.
Love,
Future Christy


Because how important are girlfriends, y'all?!


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By the way, how cute is that picture of her and her little man? Anyway, Jessica is a woman who does something that, in a million years, I could never learn to do. She uses calligraphy and hand-lettering to create amazing print matierals, and guys, it's actually unbelievable. Go check out her website to see what I'm really talking about, but here's a taste:


I mean, are you kidding me? How gorgeous is that? She did that with her hands? How is any of this possible?!

The good news is she has a shop where you can purchase all kinds of incredible pieces. Right now, she's got some custom gift tags for the upcoming holiday season. You could seriously win Christmas with these:


Also, if you're just falling in love right now, and you happen to live in Texas near College Station, you can get some tips from the expert herself. She's holding a calligraphy workshop on November 5 & 6, so sign up, and tell me how it goes!


Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Why I Blog


Many years ago, a boy in my PE class named Cory asked me why I liked the Spice Girls. He wasn't asking out of real curiosity. It was out of a bitter desire to test me, and it's the first existential crisis I really remember having. In that moment, I suddenly realized that this was never a question I had actually asked myself. I struggled to respond. Why did I like the Spice Girls? Was it their platform shoes? Was it the way they refused lovers on the basis of protecting their friendships? Was it the invaluable life lessons I seemed to always learn from them?

I do now, Geri. Thank you.
Did I even really like them at all?

I remember becoming flustered at the question which quickly made me belligerent, and I said something like, "Just...shut up, okay?" 

Many years later, a friend asked me why I enjoyed blogging. She was asking from a place of genuine curiosity, but my mind went into immediate defensive action as though it were Cory and his smug face interrogating me. Why did I blog? Was it for my love of writing? Was it for the attention? Was it in the hopes of having Meryl Streep and Amy Adams star in a movie about me?

For those of you who don't get that reference, it's from the movie Julie & Julia, a film about a woman who dedicates a year of her life to blogging her way through Julia Child's first cookbook. It came out in 2009, which, coincidentally, is actually the very same year that I began my blog. I referenced it in my very first post, titled "Humble Beginnings". Here's a taste:
When a film based on this blog is inevitably produced, I do not want Meryl Streep or Amy Adams to come anywhere near it. Instead, the actress starring as myself would definitely be Cher in full on Half-Breed garb (not because she bares any resemblance to me whatsoever. If that were the case, I would have to go with Josh Groban...in full on Half-Breed garb).
In that first post, I also addressed the purpose of my blog experiment.
The purpose of this blog is to accelerate my stardom so that I can afford a house with a closet big enough to fit all of my Snuggies as well as those belonging to my future husband, the cloned version of Orson Welles (from his "War of the Worlds" days...NOT his Paul Masson declination).
Man, that sentence is so 2009. Back then, my blog was called "An Authority On Being" and it was a bit more sardonic than what I've got going on now. I was definitely playing a character, one who always had all of the answers and wisecracks. I started a new blog because I got tired of writing in that voice. I'm still proud of it though.

Anyway, the reason I offered in that first post is just me using that sarcastic voice. I obviously did not get into blogging for fame or riches. This is largely because, at the time, I couldn't think of a single famous blogger.

So again, why? Why do I do it? Why do I blog?



The reason that I enjoy blogging is the same reason that I like the Spice Girls: I just do, so just shut up, okay?

I don't remember mapping out a grand plan when I started my blog. It just felt absolutely like what I should be doing. On some level, it just made sense for me. I mean, before there was Blogger, there was Livejournal, and I was ALL over that thing. I love to write. I love to engage with people. I think I'm good at both of those things. It's just a good fit.

And by the way, it's alright to like something just because you like it. Spice Girls rule. Viva Forever.

Bloggers, why do you blog?
Non-bloggers, why do you do the thing you do?

Philadelphia Freedom

This weekend, Daniel and I went to Philadelphia on a whim!



It was a simple day trip, brought on by beautiful weather and a full tank of gas. It wasn't one of those get-me-the-hell-out-of-New-York-City moments, but in anticipation of feeling that way in the future, we decided to go for it. It was only about a 2 hour drive, so we just listened to Professor Blastoff and made googly eyes at each other the whole time.

Aaaaand here come the pictures.


We arrived in the neighborhood where we would soon eat our cheese steaks, and I was already in love. Papel picado hung everywhere on a street where vendors sold Spongebob piñatas and Barbies standing in birthday cakes. It felt like my neighborhood in Brooklyn. 


There were two options for cheese steaks - Pat's and Geno's and they were right across the street from each other on Passyunk Ave (anyone want to tell me how to pronounce that?), and we chose Pat's based purely on this pun:



I think we chose correctly.

Jazzed.

Side note: This might be the best picture I've ever taken.

Trying to make Daniel jealous with the Phillie Phanatic
We then traveled to the Independence National Historic Park, which is where all the classic bits of history exist. The Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, The First and Second National Banks, and all kinds of places that Ben Franklin used to burp in.

Possibly more important than all of those things, though, Independence Park became the site of a recurring bit where I pretended to be Thomas Jefferson stumbling on the awkward stone walkways. 

No one was amused but me...and I was so amused that I repeated this thirteen more times.

Ben Franklin is buried here, so that's cool.

Ben Franklin illuminated by his own discovery. That's how you know you've made it.

Daniel with a portrait of George Washington. Fun fact: There was a George Washington impersonator about ten feet from us, but I was too intimidated by him to ask for a picture. 

We spent the remainder of our day at the Museum of Art, which you may know as the place where Rocky ran up a bunch of stairs. This is what he saw when he reached the top. 


And, guys, this is a phenomenal museum -- legitimately one of my favorites, and I live in stinking New York City, so I must know what I'm talking about. 



Ben Franklin getting some help with his life's greatest disovery.
What I loved most about this museum was the incredible set-up of the different rooms. Each one felt like an entirely different place from the one before it. 







This is indoors, by the way.


We capped off our museum adventure with the following impromptu photo shoot. 


Dancing, I guess?



We said goodbye to Philly, knowing full well we would be back soon. On our way home, we saw this inexplicable slogan in Trenton, NJ.

Uh...okay, Trenton. Chill out.

Anyway, that was our day trip. I think we kind of crushed it. 

I hope you're all having a fabulous week! If you've been to Philadelphia, or you've taken a stellar day/weekend trip lately, tell me all about it in the comments section. I'd love to know. 

Friday, September 20, 2013

Feelings Friday: The Feeling of Success

When I was working in television, I always felt strange about the way I was encouraged to "network". Watching everyone else, it seemed logical that I was supposed to buddy up with a couple of producers and help them with projects late into the night, and maybe, just maybe they might put in a good word for me in the future. I tried to do this at times, but it just always felt so wildly out-of-character for me that any attempts I made were completely half-hearted. I watched my peers around me climb ladders that I wasn't able to climb because they were simply better at the game. They worked harder at it, and they liked it. Seriously, good for them.

No, but seriously...

Now that I'm doing my own thing, building a platform and pursuing a career in writing, the same types of relationships that I was trying to force before seem to happen so organically now. Opportunities pop up, and I often connect with other writers I genuinely respect to gain help or advice. I'm doing something I love, and it all feels very honest -- like something the real Christy would do.

I think we hear a lot about this idea of getting out of our comfort zones, which is a valid thought, but I think it's important to stop and examine why something feels uncomfortable in the first place. Sometimes the reason is laziness and a desire to take undeserved naps. If that's the case, then that's ridiculous. Get your ass up, and do some work. Other times, though, these distressing feelings come because, in some way, we can see the end game, and we don't necessarily like it. We see the best case scenario of what our actions could lead to, and it doesn't seem like a good fit.

If you find yourself saying this, stop. Examine your choices.

I think there is definitely wisdom in venturing outside of your comfort zone, but it's also important to be mindful of the boundaries of our morality, personality, and individuality (Yeah, all of those words end in "ality" which is how you can tell that I know what I'm talking about). If you are doing something, whether professionally or socially, that just feels like a front, you are free to stop doing it. Really. There is nothing that feels less like success than constantly fighting against your nature. Discern where you need to grow and where you need to embrace the actual human being you are. On some level, you know the difference.

While I typically like to write about all of my embarrassing mistakes, the truth is I feel possibly more successful right now than I ever have before. It has little to do with how much money I'm making or where I am in terms of my long-held expectations for myself. It's that I'm feeling really authentic, like I'm finally being honest.

For those of you who consider yourselves successful, what are some of your secrets?

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Happy Birthday, Mom!

When I was a kid, my mom would take me along on some of her errands, and I remember mostly being pretty cool with it. Typically, these ventures ended in a frosty from Wendy's, so I usually didn't complain. My favorite trips were the ones to stores like Hobby Lobby or Michael's. It was here that I first discovered my love of shopping for craft supplies with no real intention of actually using them.

The best section of the store was always the floral department. To me, it was a wonderland on par with Willy Wonka's chocolate factory or Discovery Zone.


I knew these flowers were fake, but that was actually part of the appeal. Their positively impossible colors and waxy leaves made these creations virtually unrecognizable as flowers, yet they had no need for water or sunlight. They were independent, indestructible, and I thought they were beautiful.

In the store, I would rummage to find the perfect bouquet to give to my mom. The way this would work is I would abruptly tell her to go away while I made my selection. I would then present them to her as though I had gone to great lengths, possibly performed some kind of ritual sacrifice, to attain such treasures. She would then be forced to buy my collection of tacky, artificial blooms, and I spent the rest of the day feeling like an absolute hero.

Looking back, making my mother pay for a plastic floral arrangement that she neither needed nor wanted was a ridiculous gesture. Unlike these bogus blossoms, which had no need for any real care, I was completely dependent on my mom, even when it came to giving her a present. When you're a kid, even though you think you are doing something awesome, the truth is usually that you're getting a ton of help from a savvy adult.

This poor kid thinks he's Tim Duncan.

After several years, my mom had herself a pretty intense collection of fake flowers, and eventually the top of her closet looked like a Rainforest Cafe. I am sure that, aesthetically, this floral nightmare was repulsive to her, but she was always a great sport about it. I mean, she didn't put them out for actual guests to see, but she always said thank you, and she never once let on that this had turned into a bizarre obsession for me. I wonder to this day how much she spent on these "gifts" for herself.

It goes without saying that my mom is a truly special lady. I knew it as a child, which is why I wanted to give her something pretty, and I know it now, which is why for her birthday today, I sent her this:



A fake cupcake made from REAL flowers. I think I'm getting slightly better at this. I mean, I paid for it and everything.

Happy Birthday, Mom! You really are fabulous!






Feel free to wish my mom (her name is Glenda) a happy birthday in the comments section! Also, let me know what weird gifts you "bought" for your parents as a kid.

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