Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Hero

Captain Kay Hire of the United States Navy, the first American woman named to a military combat mission, one of the first female astronauts, and my childhood hero was one of the featured speakers at the leadership development conference this morning. (She was the example I had to live up to in my head, every time I debated military service and what it really means to live honestly and with honor.)

I had the incredible thrill of meeting her and having an independent conversation about teamwork and leadership while my friend Andrew snapped a photograph. (I'll add the iPhone image later, when access beyond bberry is available.) She also autographed the frontispiece of my NLDP journal, which is essentially the handbook I'm writing for myself as a result of this course -- "To Melissa, Reach for the stars!" with rank and missions and date notated. She is one of the sweetest, humblest, most amazing people, and I am so very privileged.



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Thursday, April 22, 2010

H8 and Love

A week ago, in the wee hours of April 14, 2010, a coward stole a rainbow flag, draped it over the wall of The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, & Transgender Community Center of New York City, and set it on fire. Tonight, at 5pm, approximately 350 people (that's my head count, not an official number) gathered on 13th Street in front of The LGBT Center to stand up to acts of hate and fear and cowardice and anger. As my friend Carl put it, we

stood with friends, in the rain, in solidarity with the LGBT community, as the Center was draped in new rainbow flags. It was beautiful, and loving, and angry.


There was anger and pain -- rage and anguish, even, that someone would come to our home, our haven, our place of rest and welcome and solidarity, and attempt to destroy a part of it, and our comfort and sense of sanctuary.

But there was also beauty, and love. Faces raised to let rain mingle with tears. Bright eyes and warm, friendly, welcoming smiles -- and hugs! -- peering from beneath umbrellas. Voices of the Youth Pride Chorus raised in song as they performed True Colors, with a special blessing from Cyndi Lauper. Powerful speeches made by elected representatives with the power -- and the voting history -- to make change happen. Spontaneous (and not-so-spontaneous) applause. Some laughter. And the unfurling of two brand new flags gracing our home, rippling with the eight original colors symbolizing sexuality, life, healing, sunlight, nature, art, harmony, and spirit.

But most of all, there was solidarity, and acceptance, and welcome, and a pervasive call for justice for all.

There was a sign language interpreter at the rally, who was translating all of the speeches and songs for the members of our community and guests who were hearing impaired. There was space reserved at the front of the space, with a clear view to the stage and podium, for those in wheelchairs or using other limited mobility devices. These two acts insured that everyone present -- especially the members of our community who are so often marginalized or forgotten -- were able to participate fully and equally.

There was explicit reference to a trial opening today over the death of José Sucuzhanay, a young Ecuadorian man murdered in 2008 by strangers who leapt out of an SUV and bludgeoned him to death in the street because they thought he was gay. There was a call to make The Center -- our home -- a place of welcome and safety for all people.  There was a call for its members to stand up in the face of every act of hate, whether perpetrated for reasons of sexuality, religion, race, creed, ethnicity, ableness, age, economic status, or some method of classification that we haven't yet deemed necessary.

And that last call is, for me, the most stunning.

I have said before that people are people, that equality means all. But I didn't actually understand the scope of the LGBT Equality movement with regard to that claim.  For the first time in history that I know of (and my knowledge is far from comprehensive, so someone correct me if I'm wrong), a socio-political movement is stating and accepting and owning the need to fight for equality not just for its own members, but on behalf of every person in the world. Wow.

Wow.

I have never been content with slow movement toward expected outcomes.
  • We fought a horrible war over slavery (among other things) in this country 150 years ago, and yet racism and blind privilege and inequality and unfair treatment are rampant in every community. 
  • 90 years ago, women were granted (granted, as if it were some form of gift rather than our due all along!) suffrage in the United States, yet gender stereotypes and outright discrimination and structural marginalization are so common and ingrained that many people don't even notice it. 
  • The persecution and genocide of the Holocaust were enacted 70 years ago and embroiled the entire world in a war that changed our understanding of human nature, yet Antisemitism and religious persecution are rampant the world over.  (This is one of the things I struggle with most regularly, my barely-wavering distrust of Christianty and absolute rejection of evangelists from every denomination.)  
  • The Stonewall Riots took place just over 40 years ago, and LGBTQ persons are still treated as second-class citizens under the law in this country, and subject to death-by-stoning-without-right-of-trial in dozens of other "civilized" nations.
I am not content to wait and work patiently on "the usual methods" of lobby and vote and wait for someone else to do the work. And today, I saw evidence that I'm not alone in this.  But, unlike those movements that have gone before -- suffrage in the 10s where leaders dismissed the black women as having "negative impact" on their claims, women's lib in the 70s where lesbians were ousted for the same reason -- we're not letting anyone wait out in the cold for their turn to yell. To cry. To welcome. To love.

I have never been more proud to stand with my friends, in the rain, in solidarity, in love, beautiful, and angry.


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Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Abandoning the No Impact Experiment for Something Different

So, the No Impact Man Experiment.

I'm a big fan of Colin Beavan. I first found his blog about 3 months into his No Impact Year, and reading with him every day gave me the first, if not ultimate, nudge to work on a steady path of greening my life a little -- with the learn-to-grow-vegetables, learn-to-eat-local, learn-to-use-less-stuff, desperately-figure-out-a-way-not-to-burn-so-much-gasoline, figure-out-this-composting-thing Challenge. I met him in 2008, on a lecture swing of upstate New York, and was delighted with the half hour conversation we had after the formal lecture; he really is a down-to-earth guy with lofty goals, an imperfect record of wins, and a "what harm will it do to try?" attitude that's infectiously fun.

So when I got the April No Impact Newsletter a little over a week ago, I signed up to participate in the Experiment -- a one week carbon cleanse that shrinks the actions that Colin, Michelle, and Isabella took over the course of a year into a single 8-day period. Sort of an 8-day, extreme environmentalism kick to whet one's appetite for the kind of life that could be had, with less time spent shopping and computing and using resources; with cultivating a taste for the freshest, most readily available food; for orchestrating easy, natural play with real live people you can touch and talk to and laugh with; with giving back to your community both locally and globally. It seems like a remarkably cool way to jump into extreme eco-happiness.

Or rather, it seemed tremendously cool before I read through the guidebook and realized I'm already living slightly more than half the changes he recommended as options, before I re-read Gregory Johnson's Put Your Life on a Diet: Lessons Learned from Living in 140 Square Feet as a way of kicking my thoughts on consumption back into a healthy place, and before I planned my work week to include an insane 20-hour overnight schedule on Monday. On this side of that craziness, looking toward a gargantuan, hyper-packed schedule as I prep for a week of travel starting Monday, it seems like a recipe for disaster. And as if it will yield exactly the opposite of what I wanted it to.

See, the thing I loved most about Colin's experiment is that he was focused on determining what life specific life choices yielded the greatest possible happiness for the greatest number of people. Could living more simply make people happier -- both the people living simply and those around them -- while making the planet happier? Does volunteering to help others make us feel good, or is that just spin on the part of non-profit organizations to recruit unpaid workers? Does interacting with a broad community of neighbors really make people feel more loved and connected, or is it a superficial thing? When I worked to green my own life, it was from a place of deep guilt, from my own burgeoning awareness of the extreme social injustice  perpetrated by those of us who live extravagantly on those without voice or power to speak for themselves.  There was little joy in the work that I did, though I wasn't looking for or focusing on that.  My intention with this week's carbon cleanse was to focus on the elements of work that might make me happier. 

Thing is, I don't need the Experiment to show me how to focus on those things: spending money more wisely, shopping at the Farmer's Market instead of the grocery store, planning picnics with friends, listening to independent music podcasts and playing my guitar instead of watching television, making things with my hands (including tailoring vintage clothes!) instead of buying stuff I think I need, nurturing green living things and small furry cats to grow happy and strong. But there are things I need.
  • I do need a little advice from my Mom on developing a more appropriate household budget -- which I've asked for.  
  • I do need some help from able bodied people to help me clear out the two areas of the backyard where I now have permission to plant a garden -- need to figure out who I can bribe to lend brawn in exchange for a lunch of fresh bread, Love Apple Soup, sliced fruits, and chocolate chip cookies. 
  • I do need to make a conscious decision and then take action to remove some things from my home that are getting in the way of other activities -- clothes and shoes and bags I don't need, linens that are too worn to be functional, craft supplies that I don't want to use and that are just stressing me out, a television that I don't want to be tempted by, electronic files  -- and adjust the space to work more efficiently for the ways in which I *do* want to spend my time: picnicking and enjoying the garden, cooking and eating elaborate meals, making music.
That's where Greg's book comes into play. It's a guidebook, but also a worksheet and journal of dreams and progress.  The guy went from living in a "normal" house to simplifying his life through a great many stages to the point where he now lives in a micro-apartment with his girlfriend and outsources most of the "business" associated with living. Extreme, but a cool example of how little changes can lead to an unexpected place of joy.  I'm excited to have a malleable list of things I'd like to try, in order to make my life more of what I think it can be. The bulleted list above, of course, but also,
  • Reducing the list of blogs to which I'm subscribed -- regardless of the topic (i.e. work or play) -- from 109 to 25. (I'm down to 32 as of today.) I spend way too much time at my computer thinking about technology. Some of that is legitimate work, and some of it is noise that I've convinced myself is serving as signal. Regardless, there's a time and place for it, and there's no longer room in my Sunday mornings for catching up on what I missed during the week.
  • Similarly, limit my "eNetworking" to groups and activities in which I am genuinely engaged, and not auto-subscribe to everything that strikes my fancy because it might have something interesting to present someday. Keep the signal, turn down the noise.
  • Overcoming my (legitimate) fear of cycling over the bridges into Manhattan so that I can begin to use my lovely Janeway for real transportation rather than just weekend fun excursions.
  • Establish a morning routine that involves some sort of yoga stretch or sitting still for ten minutes, so there is a point of rest which I start from and a point of rest that I return to, that isn't either dead-to-the-world sleep or full of activity.
  • Do more cooking from the Mediterranean Cookbook I purchased last fall, and have barely touched since. Because it's particularly good for me to eat in accordance with that diet, because the recipes are amazing, and because I walk through the Union Square Farmer's Market twice a week and to the Fort Greene market every Saturday where I can pick up exactly the ingredients I'll need fresh from the farms; there's no reason not to if I can just school myself to think outside the fort of the French and British and American comfort recipes I've built my repertoire upon.
  • Spend time every week making music. Practicing my guitar. Playing the saxophone. Singing. Alone or with friends. 
  • Re-read Homemade and Make Do and Mend, and begin once again creating my own cleaning products and mending my clothes. And learn how to darn all of the socks I keep dancing through!
  • Join a Freecycle group in order to move items I don't want or need -- like quilting fabric, scrapbook materials, clothes that don't fit, duplicate kitchen implements, holiday decorations, unneeded books, etc -- out the door. Use Freecycle, vintage shops, and the Brooklyn Flea to find second-hand, beautiful pieces to fill the gaps I do have (casserole dish, dining table, summer dresses) in ways that add story and interest, not just mass-market clutter.
  • Sit down with pencil and paper and a year's worth of utility bills to gauge my water and energy use, and make a concerted effort to reduce both by 10%.I really want to say "at least 10%", but I think limiting the goal to 10% now is more honest. I can always reduce work to reduce by another 10% later.
There are more, but 12 is enough to think about right now. Because it isn't just a thinky list -- it's a think-and-then-work-toward-progress list.

Twelve goals. Forget a week; let's see where I am in a year.



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Friday, April 16, 2010

Message to Myself

Dearest Lissa,

You need another sign on the wall above your desk. "Take five minutes and do a Downward Dog stretch so you can stop being a bitch. NOW!"

Love,
The version of your brain that would like to remain on friendly terms with your colleagues

P.S. The other thing that helps you calm down is your iPod set to shuffle; you should have pulled it out on Monday.  The first 30of 529 songs that played while you were agonizing over the damned S-tag manual:
  1. My Life Would Suck Without You, Glee Cast
  2. Tom of Bedam, The Reelies
  3. Mendelssohn: Song Without Words, Yo-Yo Ma
  4. Danny Boy, Christianne Cargill
  5. Show Me the Key (from The Secret Garden), Daisy Egan and John Cameron Mitchell
  6. Talk Like a Pirate Day, Tom Smith
  7. Untouchable Face, Ani DiFranco
  8. No Doubt, Erasure
  9. Rescue, Seabird
  10. Mother and Son, Trans-Siberian Orchestra
  11. Crazy Women, Roy Hurd
  12. Hellbound Train, Mac'Talla M'or
  13. I Happen to Like New York, John Barrowman
  14. Trad: Yanzi (Shallow Song), Yo-Yo Ma
  15. Catalyst, Anna Nalick
  16. Fairytale of New York, Pogues & Kirsty MacColl
  17. The Wanderer, Anois
  18. Somewhere In Between, Lifehouse
  19. Franck: Piano Sonata in A - 4. Allegretto Poco Mosso, Yo-Yo Ma
  20. For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her, Simon & Garfunkel
  21. Mr. Pinstripe Suit, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
  22. Where in the World (from The Secret Garden), Mandy Patinkin
  23. Miss Chatelaine, k.d. lang 
  24. Glass, Ingrid Michaelson
  25. Loch Lomond, Christianne Cargill
  26. Dirty Little Secret, Sarah MacLachlan
  27. Release It, Afro-Celt Sound System
  28. Stardust, Michael Buble
  29. Good Thing Going, John Barrowman
  30. Paint it Black, Rolling Stones

Now go smile and laugh and make calzones and bake pies and do cartwheels in rainy grass. And everything else that reminds you that you're a person and not a machine.


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Saturday, April 10, 2010

Word Limits Suck

This post is really just one terribly long Facebook status update.

Tonight I attended the Climate Wise Women panel at NYU, a presentation and conversation by and about the unique faces and voices impacted by global climate change, during which I knitted another 16 rows of Michael Karcher's Doctor Who Scarf. The lovely and talented Jeremy Friedman moderated the panel, and has heartily encouraged me to keep thinking about the intersection of equality and social justice with environmental responsibility and public health. Seriously considering whether I can come up with the funds to travel to the Cook Islands and work with Ulamila Kurai Wragg to build solar powered desalination tanks to irrigate crops and protect her island's food sources from the salt poisoning that results from sea surges, while researching public health practices around prevention and detection among a generally healthy populace that relies on itinerant medicine and is seeing a severe uptick in globally preventable diseases with this environmental shift.

Afterwards, I explored the NYU campus with the lovely and charming Stacy Dickerman, concluding with dinner at our favorite West Village diner.  While we missed the contra crowd from the dance at the Center (sorry gang!), we did bump into the always entertaining Mark Gilman and not-so-surreptitiously crashed his party for a few stolen moments.

Not a bad Friday night, if I can brag a bit. Now to spend some time knitting in gold and weaving in ends.


Sunday, April 4, 2010

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I love answering the question "what background prepared you for your job?" Running online fundraising programs is still a new enough gig that lots of people want to know how to get in on the ground floor, so I'm often approached for advice on what course of study someone should pursue, what opportunities they should spend their time on. Based on the verbal and physical reactions of those I speak with, my answer is engaging and entertaining and frustrating.

My life as a pseudo-grown-up prepared me for my job.

I didn't go to school to be a programmer or a designer or a marketer or a philanthropist. I went to school to be a speech therapist, but got bored with the work of constantly struggling to bring people back to "baseline normal" after a few months (loved the patients, bored with the work). So I talked with some really smart, kind, generous professors who said "figure out what you want to learn and we'll help you figure out how to put things together," so I designed a degree in American Literature that combined comp & rhetoric, literary theory, history, sociology, contemporary and historical performance art, and creative writing.

I spent a year working at a government hospital, providing office assistance to the surgical staff and building a database to sort the dead files, looking for patterns between records of patients who died while under a physician's care. I listened to music in my office, learned how to answer a telephone promptly and with cheerful compassion, and spent countless hours finding patterns in disparate data -- and making up stories in my head about what those patterns meant. Turned out that some of the stories were true.

Then my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and I spent a year caring for him and doing odd jobs as I found them to keep myself solvent; convenience store clerk, night auditor for a hotel, substitute English teacher. saxophone tutor, babysitter.  While spending sleepless nights blogging and stumbling around on the internet, I found this thing called "the Harry Potter fandom" that introduced me to the concept of virtual friendship and virtual community. I made a dozen friends who still remain an integral part of my life, and worked with a few of them to plan an international literary symposium, all as volunteers, just because it sounded like fun.

I spent five months at Salem, living with my favorite Aunt and Uncle and my youngest cousins -- realizing how much fun kids are at 7 and 13, working as a TA, studying French, and doing the first half of my Master's coursework for literary theory and technical writing, composing hundreds of pages in "the fourth genre" to develop a social understanding of creative non-fiction -- all centered around the main question of "what makes a true story true?" I was unfulfilled by my teaching experience with entitled, unappreciative Freshman Comp and ESL students; since the end goal of academia was a professorial teaching gig, I cut my losses and dropped out of the MA/PhD program. I brought three blogs, a tentative script-writing opportunity, and an unbridled passion to help people who really *need and want* help back to New York.

I developed a skills-based resume and used my story-telling skills to write unique cover letters for nearly 200 jobs in the nonprofit sector. 92 days later, I started work with the American Cancer Society as an events director, planning Relay For Life events with college and university students throughout the capital region. I quickly learned that the students I worked with loved surfing the web as much as I did, and would take any excuse to play with online tools; worked with the online fundraising guy to market our websites as study-break fun that made the world a better place. I spent a lot of time breaking my sites while trying to make them better and Jack got tired of fixing them, so he taught me to do so myself. When he moved on to a new role, I made a pitch to step into his shoes.

Three years later, it's still an amazing gig.

But here's the kicker: I won't do this forever. Online fundraising is an awesome field, with a vast amount of potential. It's inextricably linked with marketing, story-telling, supporter engagement, relationship management and long-term financial health for organizations. But when you get down to it, it's a system of doing work -- one that I've become a recognized expert in, but still just a system. My life is not about systems, and neither is my career.

What excites and energizes me are the problems that need to be solved and the people who can be helped and the stories that can be told, the opportunity to create a community and a society and a world where improving life for everyone is the standard modus operandi. The patterns that I see, the solutions (some successful most not) that I propose for problems we find (or create) -- these are the things that interest me most of all, the art that I bring to my work. The path of my career will follow that line, irrespective of the systems I have to learn or master.

So my advice to those who ask me for it is always the same. Forget about the system -- it might not exist in five years. Figure out what you want to accomplish -- what ultimate problem do you want to address, what need do you want to fill? Then fill your tool box with the stuff that will help you work through systems in order to make that possible. It's not an easy answer. Then again, there's no such thing.

This post inspired by Seth Godin's One in a Million.

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Saturday, April 3, 2010

Getting Things Done

For the last year, I've been nice and kind and pleasant and accomodating. On Wednesday night, I went direct and forceful, ending just this side of bitchy.

I was angry and frustrated and tired and stressed, and came home very late at night to a broken outdoor light (blanketing my Brooklyn street and stoop in darkness), a dead bug in the entryway, and the impending need to write the first-day-of-the-month rent check. I wrote both the check and an accompanying letter, which stated a short list of acknowledged demands rather than the polite requests I've been making for the last however many months:
  • Fix the light
  • Repair my broken dishwasher, which he's been making excuses about for four months
  • Repair the fried electrical outlet in my kitchen (so I can stop making toast in the living room)
  • Reschedule at my convenience the monthly required-by-tenant-law exterminator visit that was ignored in March
  • Formalize in writing the schedule for repainting the building lobby and shared storage space
  • Formalize in writing the schedule for renovating and making useful the outdoor space in the back yard
I like working with people, I don't like demanding things which I know are the appropriate, acknowledged things I have been promised, and I don't like to be a nuisance. When I make an agreement that a service will be provided by a certain date, I expect that follow-up will be timely and consistent and that I won't have to bully my way to what has already been determined.

I arrived home well after dark on Thursday and Friday. When I woke up this morning and opened the blinds on the kitchen window, I saw that the lower-level terrace in the yard has been cleared of winter debris. Going outside, I saw that the lobby has been cleaned and the trash receptacle area at the front of the building has been tidied. Received a text from my landlord thirty minutes ago: "Monday 12-1:00pm. I will b there" -- with the exterminator, plumber, and electrician that I indicated in my note.


My landlord is a genuinely nice guy. He's respectful and kind and pleasant to be around, he's just not much for taking action with repeated prompting. I don't like acting like a demanding bitch, even if just in writing, and I really don't like that such action seems to be the only thing that makes a difference.

Once these things were noted? I felt so much better about my home. I bought pansies for my window box at the Farmer's market; the blossoms are waving about in the cool spring breeze. I selected paint colors and redecorating ideas after about 20 minutes of conversational deliberation (sage green for the living room and kitchen, with deep gold microfiber slipcovers for the sofa and club chair, a table with storage shelves and "breakfast bar" stools to replace the patio furniture which will move out to the backyard shortly; graduated shades of purple for the bedroom, plus a replacement bed frame, chocolate-colored bed linens, and plans for steampunk artwork to replace the classic art prints I've had since college), where I'd been struggling to feel comfortable and at home for the last three weeks.

I get what I want and my landlord gets what he wants: a responsible tenant willing to renew a lease who pays rent on time, improves the value of the space both inherently through improvement work and for other tenants as a pleasant neighbor, and actively works to improve curb appeal and personableness within the block/street/neighborhood. But why did it take stopping just-this-side-of-bitchiness to make that happen, since it's what we'd both agreed to months before? Why are people so willing/able/empowered to slack off and not make good on their word? How does that attitude and system of behavior improve the world for any of us?

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