What is it with guys, who are married, that don’t wear rings?
I know of one woman who does not wear her wedding band.
But the world is inundated with men who don’t wear theirs. And it’s not as though these studs are operating heavy machinery where the ring could get caught on some mechanism that would grind their bones to dust.
I’ve been meeting more and more of these ringless wonders. Maybe it’s just a beltway phenomenon. Can someone enlighten me?
The main reason I was missing in action from the blogosphere is because I was setting up my own shop.
I left the world of full-time gainful employment in November 2004 with enough money saved to carry me through May 2005.
The first couple weeks were heaven. I met with my designer, approved the logo and slogan, put the website online and planned a marketing campaign. I slept til noon, worked til 2:00 a.m., and was the envy of all my friends.
December was a flurry of meetings with well-meaning colleagues (all dispensing advice before scurrying back to their offices), aching wrists from hours of typing email announcements, and creative Christmas gift-giving.
January passed quickly. Almost 1,000 postcards were mailed to prospective clients announcing I was ready for business. The first week passed – but I figured people were still on vacation. The second week came and went. The third Sunday, I picked up the Washington Post and glanced at the job listings (just out of curiosity). The fourth week I got my first official client!
AND breathed a HUGE sigh of relief.
A mere 10 weeks later I have six clients and more work than I can handle. And having oh-so-much fun. AND am the envy of all my friends and family.
Last week I worked out of Denver, CO. My hours were a little screwy because I was up early handling East Coast clients at 6:00 a.m. mountain time – but I’m not complaining. Next week I’ll be working from Boston, Mass., and Lisbon, Portugal – talk about a screwy work schedule. In June, I’ll be open for business from New Orleans, LA. And in July, I’m planning a two-week Independence Day extravanganza in Newport, RI.
I’ve invested heavily in technology…. I started off with one clunky laptop and am now the proud owner of three ultra-portable, wireless, lite-weight machines. Am a huge fan of cruzer micro drives! Own two digital cameras. And a cellphone with international calling capabilities.
I am a sleek, mobile office. Need a PR campaign – I can work from anywhere and am available to work with you on-site.
So between the euphoria of actually leaving the predictable world of 9-5 life, to the rush of holiday madness, and the sudden crash of panic in January, to the crazed schedule that has become my new life – it was difficult to either find topics to blog about or the time.
I’m a bit more settled now and look forward to sharing my experience with others who are thinking of leaving the daily grind to strike out on a venture of their own.
In one week, I’ll be on my way to Lisbon. Lisboa.
And I’m going with my grandmother, who has never been. I’m so so so excited for this trip.
I haven’t taken a real vacation since 2003. A real long time.
Actually, it’s not a true vacation. Now that I’m in business for myself, I have a mobile office. With a wireless laptop and cellphone, I can work anywhere. In this case, from Portugal.
Sometimes all it takes is one moment to completely turn your world upside down.
Last year, I worked full-time for a prestigious organization that provided me with a steady paycheck, full benefits, and a company-matched-retirement-fund.
I loved my work, but hated my job. After more than three years with the same organization, I was desperate for more money, more fun and something different.
It only took one moment to change all of that.
I entered my boss’s office for our weekly meeting to go over the budget and calendar to establish the priorities for the month. As my eyes scanned the long list of looming deadlines, my head began to throb. I stood up, shut the office door, and informed my supervisor that it was time for me to go.
That’s how one moment, I was gainfully employed with a magnificent corner office on the top floor of a fabulous building downtown, and the next moment, I was an entrepreneur standing in the middle of Staples examining the features of color-coordinated fax machines and printers.
One moment.
I gave my two weeks notice and put off telling anyone outside of my work colleagues about the new turn in my career. Of course, I knew I had to inform my friends and family before my last official day at the office because it would be oh-so-awful if they phoned me at work only to be informed that I was no longer employed there.
The call to my parents was the worst. They thought I was mad. And could I reconsider. And what in hell was I thinking. My friends were excited and took me out for an impromptu celebration over expensive cocktails and minimalist decor. My brother was thrilled because he also had an announcement for my parents and my news cushioned his blow. His girlfriend is pregnant.
Another moment.
One second I’m a swinging single thirty-something entrepreneur, daughter, sister, granddaughter and friend. The next moment I’m an AUNTIE!
How thrilling! (I can’t wait to spoil my little niece rotten)
Most times, change occurs in itty bits, so that you don’t quite notice how much weight you’re gaining from day to day, or the second you become fluent in Portuguese, or how you managed to charge $5,000 to your credit card account.
But sometimes, on rare occasions, your universe can change in one moment.
I found an empty tube leaning against one of the counters in the office workroom. It was white cardboard, about the length of my arm and the perfect size for a poster I wanted to bring home.
I grabbed the cylinder and walked back to my office, my mind sorting through an endless list of tasks and deadlines. And suddenly I stopped.
Without thinking about it, I’d been twirling the packing tube like a baton. And then, to my horror, all these memories came flooding back… images of a much younger, little me in pleated skirts throwing batons in the air and doing routines.
I’d completely forgotten.
How is that possible? I remember the gymnastics… learning to do cartwheels and roundoffs and back walk-overs. But the twirling – I’d somehow blocked. Forgotten. Until this afternoon, when autopilot kicked in and I started twirling my cardboard tube.
What else have I forgotten? Has this ever happened to you?
What happened to summer?
A crisp undercurrent greeted me on my walk to work. The air wasn’t quite as stifling as the day before.
I pulled my black leather dayplanner towards me and noted that all of the major events planned this summer have come and gone…. The dedication of the World War II Memorial on the National Mall – Check. Cicadas – Check. Friends down for the Fourth of July – Check. The DNC Convention in Boston – Check. The Prince Concert – Check. The Olympics in Greece – Check. The RNC Convention in NYC – Almost checked.
Time flew by and I feel as though I’ve accomplished little, if nothing. Well… not counting my professional epiphany at the end of August.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, taking many career assessment surveys, spending countless hours driving friends crazy with talk of fate and destiny over drinks. The conclusion? I’m tired of relying on others to provide for my livelihood. I’m talking about “the salary.”
Sooooo I’m taking the bold step of starting my own company… while searching for a new job that will keep me afloat in cash and benefits til my business can stand on its own. I’m realistic. I think. Or scared to rely completely on my abilities to survive. I mean, the monthly rent isn’t going away anytime soon. Or the weddings. And the birthdays.
But I’ve got to try this because in my gut I feel it’s the only way I’ll achieve the excitement that I crave in my life.
My parents will try to talk me out of it. My friends think I’m nuts. Most small businesses don’t survive to see year five. Whatever – I’ve always been a believer in Frost’s “road less traveled.”
Stay tuned for updates on my corporate adventure and wish me luck!
Last night, I joined four girlfriends up in the rafters of the MCI Center for Prince’s Musicology show. W-O-W!
I cannot even begin to descibe how godawful my day at work was. So awful, in fact, that I toyed with the idea of bailing out and eating my ticket.
But in a fit of, what…. rebellion? despair? complacency? – I logged off my computer, grabbed my broken red umbrella, and ran in the rain to Fado for a quick pint before the show.
And once I was there… Prince worked his magic. The show was incredible… HE was incredible. I will forever remember his acoustic rendition of Little Red Corvette.
At one point, Prince disappeared, leaving Greg Boyer on stage with his trombone, and changed from a devilish red ensemble into a teal outfit. The fabric shimmered, like a glossy silk.
The color reminded me of this suit I once wore, when I was first interviewing in DC some nine-odd years ago. And the music conjured a strange sensation, a long lost feeling of hope and idealism and fun and adventure. My first job paid less than $25,000 a year, but I was so much more upbeat, intoxicated by life’s many possibilities.
Now I’m bored, detached, reclusive, in park, spinning my wheels but not going anywhere. I spend most of my days daydreaming instead of doing something I enjoy. Is this what happens when you meet goals and get what you think you want?
The concert inspired me. Why am I working in public relations? My destiny is screaming – go on the road baby… travel and see the world…. be a roady… be a dancer…. be a groupie…. blog about the tour from the road…. be happy now, today.
I want to leave all the bureaucrats to their peon existences and trade in my corner office – and all the good it’s doing me – for a happier existence.
Things did look better this morning (things always do, right?) – and the music and the rhythms and the nostalgia and screaming my lungs out and gyrating like a mad woman and hanging out with a bunch of girly-girls and flirting with the guys behind us definitely helped some – but my job search, my career makeover, offically began today.
The Sunday morning tv wonk shows emphasized numbers. The number of soldiers who’ve died in Iraq. The proportion of people who will vote for Kerry. The share of voters who will vote for Bush. The percentage of Catholics who attend religious services at least once a week. The total of Catholics who only attend church on holidays.
I sat watching these pundits, thinking, “I am an individual, I am NOT just a number.”
And then I realized that they’re all right – as much as I’d like to argue against it.
I can’t get through a day without flashing one of my numbers:
– a social security number
– a credit card number
– a phone number
– an employee number
– a drivers license number
– a bank account number
And that’s just off the top of my head.
As for the pollsters, I’m counted in lots of percentages –
– the percentage of college-educated females who will vote for Kerry
– the percentage of single, white females who feel the President lied about weapons of mass destruction
– the percentage of Americans who have traveled abroad
– the percentage of Christian non-hispanics who are pro-choice
– the percentage of Americans with hi-speed internet at home
– the percentage of single females who bought a major appliance in the last six months
I feel my defenses go up each time I read or listen to the results of the latest polls…. “what do they know?” I think. I am not so easy to predict. I am an individual goddammit!
As much as I’d like to feel comforted by the idea that some of our leaders aren’t placing emphasis on poll results, I know it’s a lie. And pols have become masters at orchestrating public opinion – at influencing poll results.
Is it a bad thing that life can be summed up neatly by the results of a simple survey? For a short list of poll topics, go here.
Who’s got your number?
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