A Little About Me

If I've learned anything in 2014, it's that you have to be true to yourself in order to be truly happy.  

This doesn't always work, especially in professional situations where there are certain political or social expectations. Fortunately for me I'm a bit of a chameleon, being able to blend in to nearly every scenario, maintaining a certain level of tact, decorum and diplomacy not to rock anyone's boat and make everyone in my presence feel warm and comfortable.  Great, right?

Yeah, I guess.  And having that skill set is important. (In fact, I've met quite a few folks that could benefit from it). But sometimes I want to just be a little more, well, me.

Don't get me wrong, its not like I'm some psycho (really, I promise!).  But there's more to me than my LinkedIn-approved profile.  And it's those parts that I really make me who I am and truth be told, more interesting as a person.

My challenge has been how to incorporate more of myself so I don't have two different personas.  What's holding me back?  One word: FEAR.

Fear of being overlooked. Ridiculed. Forgotten. Viewed as irrelevant.

Funny, because that's exactly what I fear right now, before making any changes.

I'm currently in the last 6 months of a 3-year contract.  It's provided a wonderfully stable income stream, and the autonomy and freedom I so desired after 10 years of being a CEO with an ever-changing board of directors.  When it began, I was excited, anxious, and eager to learn and excel.  And I did. But then I got bored.  And rather than seek out something more challenging, I fell into the comfort zone of it, the ease of it. And along the way started to have those feelings of being viewed solely in that role. And people making inaccurate assumptions about me because of it (oh, she really doesn't want go to work full time, she has kids and doesn't want to travel) even though those closest to me in my personal and professional life knew better. In fact, they knew me so well that they asked things like what was I really going to do? And when was I going find a real job?  They told me I was more than this role, and that I was a leader, and had so much more to offer.  

Which of course pissed me off.  Because I secretly knew they were right.  Because they knew me. All of me.

Along the way these conversations continued, which brings us to today, the last day of 2014. With an impending new year I thought I should start to try to true up and merge the professional and personal Amys.  If you're reading this, you probably already know:

• I excel at being able to quickly assess what's working and what's not, come up with recommendations and an action plan to improve, strengthen, and build, then deliver results.
• I also quite frequently find myself in "the middle," serving as a liaison between disparate groups and factions, leading the way to consensus.
• I'm motivated by challenge and find great satisfaction in getting tangible results and making things better.
• Some adjectives that describe me are: respected, competitive, results-oriented, ambitious, focused, confident.

Sounds very LinkedIn-y, right?  But here's a list of 25 things you may not know about me:

1. I was super shy as a kid (this shocks people that meet me today)
2. My favorite color used to be pink (it's now blue)
3. I loved (and still do) writing, drawing, creating and building (I was DIY before it was a thing)
4. I played volleyball (still do), basketball, ran hurdles and even was a song leader (kinda like a dancing cheerleader — seemed like fun so on a whim I tried out my senior year and made it)
5. I rocked the best '80s hair EVAH
6. I was a Visual Arts major in Film/Video, with a minor in communications 
7. I interned at a local cable TV station in college and loved being the technical director (the one who literally calls the shots) 
8. I wanted to be a filmmaker (sounded cool) but instead landed in agency-land (also pretty cool)
9. I've worked in advertising, marketing, communications, branding and travel/tourism, and in every instance my parents never quite knew what I did for a living (still don't)
10. I'm very handy and absolutely love home renovation
11. Guy Fieri once told me that I smelled good
12. I'm fueled by Peet’s medium nonfat lattes and single handily keep at least two local stores in business
13. I have no real phobias but clowns freak me out — they're evil
14. I dislike most reality TV except my guilty pleasure, The Millionaire Matchmaker
15. The concept of transformation is very meaningful and fulfilling to me, and I feel happiest when I’m an active participant in some form of one
16. I love games, especially Trivial Pursuit and Cards Against Humanity
17. I find personality tests fascinating because I’m on a never-ending quest of self-discovery
18. When I’m really close with someone I develop an uncanny, almost psychic connection to them
19. I think being clever trumps beauty
20. I use A LOT of Post-It notes
21. I value intuition very highly
22. I stick my tongue out when I’m really concentrating
23. I always wear sunscreen and my seat belt
24. I spontaneously cry every time someone with perfect pitch hits a high note
25. I think the world would be a much more interesting place if we all spoke in Aaron Sorkin style dialogue

Stay tuned as I get creative with my bio, and hopefully my next gig. Here's to a fearless 2015 — Happy New Year, everyone!

How a Reunion Can Reunite You With Yourself

re·un·ion

[ree-yoon-yuh n]

 noun

1. the act of uniting again.
2. the state of being united again.
3. a gathering of relatives, friends, or associates at regular intervals or after separation

Last Saturday I went to my 25th high school reunion. (Yes, I'm that old. Stop snickering.)

When you go to these things, it's natural, of course, to ask your classmates about what they've been up to since you last saw each other. Which made me reminisce about what I was doing 25 years ago.

{Behold my '80s hair in all its glory.}

It was my senior year and I was busy being a well-rounded student.  Between AP classes, sports and maintaining really big hair I had my hands full. I had always been part of student government, but rather than go for a class officer position I interviewed for a coveted student body post: Activities Director. Sounds good, right? Not exactly.

Even my high school adviser knew something I didn't — that event planning wasn't my thing (and truth be told, never would be... but that's for another blog post). Instead, I was gently persuaded to be the Publicity Chairperson.  I wouldn't be planning the activities (that was left to my uber organized, detail-oriented friend, N.) but instead I would be writing about them. Promoting them.  Telling stories about them. In fact, my adviser thought I'd be perfect for this role because she felt I had a natural writing style that would easily lend itself to the prerequisite teen column published weekly in our area's local rag.

Hmm... a weekly column?  With my own byline? Where I could express myself? Cool! I accepted the gig and happily went along my way.

{One of my teen columns from the Tri-Valley Herald, circa 1986}

Each week I'd make the early-morning drive to hand deliver my typewritten columns (remember, this was 1986) and a few days later I would beam with published pride.

Funny how going to a reunion can reunite you with yourself.

As I chatted with my high school friends about what was next for me, I mentioned this blog and how I was thinking of (finally!) trying this writing thing. 

• M.J. loved the idea and thought it could be my own version of Eat, Pray Love (minus Julia Roberts — she hates Julia Roberts). 
• T. said that he remembered me as a girl who could do anything and to just go for it. 
• And (female) T. remarked on my amazing, positive energy — particularly when I was speaking about this project — and said it made her (someone who already has a lot of energy) feel electric.

Instead of leaving the reunion feeling like an unemployed loser, I came away even more determined to be true to my mantra and "make it so."

So allow me to say it publicly for the first time: I was, and am, a writer. 

It just took me 25 years to acknowledge it.  Thanks for the reminder, CHS '86. 

:-)

I'm No Jan Brady...and That's Okay

Let's get something straight: I've never identified with Jan Brady.

Yes, we're both the middle of three sisters, had blond hair and questionable eyesight (thanks to Lasik, my is no longer questionable, thank you very much).  But that's where the similarities end.

{That's me on the right, next to my big sis and helping hold our younger sis. Aren't we cute?}

I say this because growing up in the '70s there was very little in the way of relatable and aspiration-worthy icons for a middle sister. Especially if you thought Jan Brady was kinda whiny. ("Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" anyone?)  Even Jan didn't want to be Jan.

Sure, there were some badass females during that era — The Bionic Woman, Charlie's Angels, Pinky Tuscadero — but all of these women seemed a bit cliché, over the top and not like someone I wanted to be. (Well, I did really did like pink as a child but that's for another post.)

Think back to when you were a little kid — who did you want to be?

It may surprise you to learn that I was an extremely shy child.  Like hiding-behind-my-Mom's-leg-when-our-parents-had-adults-over-the-house shy. This was in stark contrast to my older sis, who, as a first-born and all-around superstar, preferred to use the opportunity of having a new audience in the house to demonstrate her latest gymnastic moves. And to her credit, my sister's leotards did come in handy when constructing our 1976 Halloween costumes — Electra Woman and Dyna Girl (guess who was who?):

{Halloween 1976: Raggedy Ann, gypsies and hobos, oh my!}

But as it is with siblings, when one goes one way, the other goes another.  In the end every child is just trying to find his or her own place in the world, especially as it relates to getting attention and discovering his or her unique gifts and talents.  If you have siblings (especially if you hit the proverbial sibling jackpot and have awesome, rock star older and younger sisters like I do) you know what I mean.

My Dad would always tell my sisters and me (with PC apologies, as this was the '70s): "Be the pilot, not the stewardess. Be the lawyer, not the secretary."  His point was to never limit ourselves or let others dictate what our destiny would be.  And you know what?  He was right.

So who do I want to be?  That answer keeps evolving.  And that's okay.

That said, I can definitively say there will be no Afro wigs in my future.  But you already knew that.

Owning It

The other morning my Mom stopped by to swap cars with me (she needed the "spaceship" aka the minivan to pickup a kayak...but that's another story). When she entered the house she was carrying a shopping bag, and eager to tell me about its contents.

"I was at McCracken's (store's name changed to protect the accused)," she started. Upon seeing the expression on my face she continued: "I know you think of it as an 'old lady' store but you know what? I *am* an old lady!"

Now anyone who knows my Mom knows she is most definitely *not* an old lady, at least not by my definition: staid in their ways, has an affinity for appliqué sweatshirts and "cute" Holiday sweaters, and somewhere along the way forgets that she can be a mature woman without looking like, well, a "mature woman."

By contrast, my Mom takes pride in her appearance and takes good care of herself. She has an adventurous spirit, a dry sense of humor and looks decades younger than her chronological age. But here, in my entryway, she was describing herself, unequivocally, as (gasp!) an old lady.

Which got me to thinking.  When my Mom made that declaration, she wasn't talking about appliqué sweatshirts, she was being be true to herself.  Authentic.  She was owning it.

And I thought, maybe there's a lesson here. Instead of worrying about what other people (or even your own daughter) think of you, perhaps you could just shed all that excess baggage and those expectations and just be your unique and most fabulous, confident self.  

I guess that must come with being a mature woman.  Or, you know, an "old lady."