With so many options in media, interaction and venues, you now get to choose what you expose yourself to.
Expose yourself to art, and you’ll come to appreciate it and aspire to make it.
Expose yourself to anonymous scathing critics and you will begin to believe them (or flinch in anticipation of their next appearance.)
Expose yourself to get-rich-quick stories and you’ll want to become one.
Expose yourself to fast food ads and you’ll crave french fries.
Expose yourself to angry mobs of uninformed, easily manipulated protesters and you’ll want to join a mob.
Expose yourself to metrics about your brand or business or performance and you’ll work to improve them.
Expose yourself to anger and you might get angry too.
Expose yourself to people making smart decisions and you’ll probably learn how to do it as well.
Expose yourself to eager long-term investors (of every kind) and you’ll likely to start making what they want to support.
It’s a choice if you want it to be.
Lately I’m wallowing in the whole childbirth thing, as you know. What can I say? I’m an obsesser, and there’s something indulgent about allowing myself to look at video after video and feel my horror start to recede, be replaced by something more like wonder. It’s fun to talk with my husband about how big a sucker I am with kids and dogs and how he’ll have to be the heavy around here, then laugh when we realize I’m both the sucker and the heavy with the dogs. So is he.
But we’re at least a year away from starting to try to have kids. Though my friends and neighbors might be lobbying for something sooner, I know (deep down in the pit of my stomach where truth and honesty live) that we won’t be ready for at least that long. We have growing up to do — mostly together, but individually as well — and houses to finish.
What, you’re not planning your conception timeline around DIY to-do’s?
I’m a practical woman. I can’t help it. We have 1800 square feet of fully functional basement to make pretty so that when we produce this little bundle of fantasticness, our families can come visit (and, ahem, clean and cook and stuff) without invading our space (or us, theirs). With a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom — plus direct access to the backyard — my peeps (who love their own space) are free to come and stay and hang out, or not.
We also need to build a fence (sooner rather than later, please), redo the kitchen (a fun prospect given my husband’s, ahem, expensive tastes in anything metal, like appliances), rip out and redo the bathroom tiles (white tiles and white grout on a bathroom floor in a house with dogs – dumb, dumb, dumb).
The window is my home office, in front of which is this glorious mess of garden-y goodness. See the azalea getting ready to bloom? I really want to cut it down move it, put a little garden bench and table in it’s place, and sit outside in the sun to work. It’s a perfect location, sunny in the morning, shady in the afternoon, and well-protected from the road (and friendly neighbors who don’t realize I’m working). Plus, I can run my laptop’s power cord through the open window.
I’d like to plant mint as ground cover so when I step on it, it’ll smell good. A little sun shade might be nice, if only to protect from light rain. The holly bush needs to go. Maybe catnip in the shaded corner? A bird feeder? I don’t know, but it needs something. Monkey grass to define the border? So many options.
I’d been thinking I’d need to stop wallowing in baby-dom lest I start to yearn for it prematurely, then I read Seth’s latest blog post, which sealed it. I’m going back to wallowing in home-dom and work-dom and marriage-dom for a while, comfortable that birthing videos will be waiting for me when we’re ready.
Speaking of home-dom, look:
We painted the fireplace (yes, Liz, you were right, it looks way better!) and got these great orange curtains at Ikea. I love them. They remind me of living in New York City during “The Gates” installation in 2005.
Yes, that’s a sheet on the couch. Oh, how I hate having sheets on the couch, but my wonderful dogs chewed a hole in the cushion of our leather couch (which thankfully was an old beat up Craigslist find) so the bright yellow couch had to come back into the living room from my office. Bright yellow fabric can’t hold a candle to leather in terms of avoiding dirt and dog hair, so the sheet came out. Hate it. When I find some time, I’ll make a cover that at least matches and fits, but that won’t happen anytime soon. Ugg.
I’m off to Atlanta for a work conference. I lobbied for permission to go, but now I’m poopy about actually going. I’m so happy to be home in warm, sunny, green Knoxville! But, to be successful at work, I have to immerse myself in it, despite my preference to be sitting in the sun drinking something cold.