In an interview some years ago, Bruce Springsteen said something to the effect, "I may not be the best singer, I may not be the best guitar player, I may not even be the best performer. But when you put together all the things I do, I got something."
His words have stuck in my mind because they're so true. As I search for employment, I'm constantly thinking about all the things I do and matching them with job descriptions. I don't sing, I don't play guitar, and the idea of performing in front of a crowd gives me the heebie-jeebies. But I got something.
There's a lot of talk in employment circles about "monetizing experience." Along those lines, my friend Alaya suggested I start putting together a little package of all the things I do--especially the ones I most love to do. When I start listing all the things I do, have done and would like to do (and this last one may be the most important), it's a long list that at cursory glance doesn't necessarily seem to have any connection to one another. Editor/writer. Wild animal care volunteer. Caterer. Sound system operator. Hospitality host. Event planner. Chef. Amateur spiritual director. Interviewer. Nonprofit fundraiser. Active listener. Yoga practitioner.
My friend Kathryn looked at one iteration of my resume and said very sweetly and to the point, "I don't know how to get my arms around this." Read: the average human resources person would throw my resume in the "Flake" category. I'm sure there is one.
But with a little imagination and a lot of insider knowledge, there are some themes. Excellent overall communication skills. Nurturing and nourishing skills. Planning and management abilities. An interest in lifelong learning. A versatility very much needed in today's workplaces, where employees are often fulfilling more than one job description.
Try it yourself. It can't hurt. At the very least it clarifies my presentation and sharpens my discernment about where I would be most effective.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
1-800-USA-GOVT
I was just listening to Colorado Public Radio's summer pledge drive, or rather tuning it out until "Talk of the Nation" comes back on. I have that right. I've pledged to public radio since I was a teenager.
The pledge drive made me start thinking that the government might make its citizens really happy to pay taxes instead of listening to constant appeals like: "If you like the Social Security program, please run to your phone right now and pledge. Pledges start at $60 annually . . ." or "For the cost of one grande latte a day, you can ensure that the government will continue to cover the costs of national defense."
In other news: Have you heard the one about BP's claim that the oil it's reclaiming from the spill will pay for the Gulf's clean-up?
Really?
Reminds me of when Bush/Cheney said the U.S. would pay for the Iraq War with oil revenue from Iraq's oil fields.
Really?
I thought the U.S. invaded Iraq, meaning it was on this country's dime. I support National Public Radio, but I was always against the Iraq war. That oil wasn't ours to claim.
BP and Bush are and were full of bull-bleep.
The pledge drive made me start thinking that the government might make its citizens really happy to pay taxes instead of listening to constant appeals like: "If you like the Social Security program, please run to your phone right now and pledge. Pledges start at $60 annually . . ." or "For the cost of one grande latte a day, you can ensure that the government will continue to cover the costs of national defense."
In other news: Have you heard the one about BP's claim that the oil it's reclaiming from the spill will pay for the Gulf's clean-up?
Really?
Reminds me of when Bush/Cheney said the U.S. would pay for the Iraq War with oil revenue from Iraq's oil fields.
Really?
I thought the U.S. invaded Iraq, meaning it was on this country's dime. I support National Public Radio, but I was always against the Iraq war. That oil wasn't ours to claim.
BP and Bush are and were full of bull-bleep.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
My Guilty Pleasure
I admit it--I'm a hardcore "Fresh Air with Terry Gross" junkie. As someone who has interviewed people for a living, I say with all confidence that Terry is the best in the business. She really knows how to get people talking. I think it's because she's really well-prepared, and that includes being prepared to follow up on the surprising responses she elicits from her guests. Being a really good listener doesn't hurt her, either.
My favorite Fresh Air interviews are numerous--the one with Borat/Sasha Baron Cohen was especially naughty--but I have to say I enjoy the ones with John Waters, the director of "Hairspray" and "Pink Flamingos." He was on today's show http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=127238420.
Full disclosure--I can't stand his movies. I walked out of "Pink Flamingos" when I saw it at the Nuart Theater in West L.A. shortly after it came out. So when I heard Terry interview him about five years ago or so, I experienced some serious cognitive dissonance. I expected Waters to be just like his movies--irreverent to the point of rudeness, creepy, bizarre. That he was articulate, polite and unabashedly exactly who he is was a pleasant surprise. I think Quentin Tarantino might very well be riffing off John Waters. Neither director is afraid to show their audiences the unedited content of their imaginations. As an aspiring writer, I could stand to riff off Waters and Tarantino.
My favorite Fresh Air interviews are numerous--the one with Borat/Sasha Baron Cohen was especially naughty--but I have to say I enjoy the ones with John Waters, the director of "Hairspray" and "Pink Flamingos." He was on today's show http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=127238420.
Full disclosure--I can't stand his movies. I walked out of "Pink Flamingos" when I saw it at the Nuart Theater in West L.A. shortly after it came out. So when I heard Terry interview him about five years ago or so, I experienced some serious cognitive dissonance. I expected Waters to be just like his movies--irreverent to the point of rudeness, creepy, bizarre. That he was articulate, polite and unabashedly exactly who he is was a pleasant surprise. I think Quentin Tarantino might very well be riffing off John Waters. Neither director is afraid to show their audiences the unedited content of their imaginations. As an aspiring writer, I could stand to riff off Waters and Tarantino.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
A Tale of Two Gulfs
The only good news about the oil leaking into the Gulf of Mexico is that it's drowning out the news of Lindsay Lohan's latest scandal.
It's impossible to ignore the news of the oil that's gushing into the Gulf, destroying habitats, wildlife and industry. It reminds me of how I felt watching another debacle unfolding in another Gulf, when the Iraq War was spinning more and more out of control. In the Persian Gulf the world watched the destruction of a country and peoples' lives. In the Gulf of Mexico we're witnessing nothing less than the destruction of an ecosystem.
Another aspect of this debacle is the blame game alternating with denials of responsibility. The problem, as it was in Iraq, is there was no exit strategy. In Iraq speak, the oil would be greeted with debit cards at the pump. It would all be good. So here's the thing--while it's possible to drill a mile deep, it seems to have never occurred to the various engineers involved that they would need to have several back-ups in place in the event of a worst-case scenario.
There's plenty of blame to go around, and it's not just oil executives, engineers, the Coast Guard and government bureaucrats who are responsible. I was driving around town doing some errands, listening to news about the oil spill and getting more and more depressed. I noticed I was low on gas, so I pulled into a Diamond Shamrock (there's no way I'll ever buy gas from a BP station again). That's when it hit me that I'm responsible, too. I'm one of the hundreds of millions of people in the developed world who is addicted to oil.
Time to do my grocery shopping by rickshaw. Time to take the bus to Boulder. Time to start bugging state government to get off the dime and build that light rail system already.
And another thing--please don't tell me that the same people who put astronauts on the moon can't figure out how to stop this oil from gushing. Or that the public isn't willing to help. There are people who can no longer fish for a living along the Louisiana coast just standing by to help BP, the Coast Guard and the government clean up the mess. So far no one's taken them up on their offer. Maybe they're concerned about the liability involved in allowing citizen volunteers to do the work.
If this oil spill isn't a message from God telling the USA to rally together, I don't know what is.
I've been praying that this disaster forces BP to morph into an engineering company in charge of cleaning up other environmental disasters. Or better yet, that this is the environmental disaster to end all environmental disasters. This isn't just about what God does. We can't afford the psychological warfare that opposing parties (and I'm not just talking Democrats and Republicans in Congress) have indulged in for far too long. I pray that people will tire of the blame game and actually start thinking about how to solve this problem. And then get to work.
It's impossible to ignore the news of the oil that's gushing into the Gulf, destroying habitats, wildlife and industry. It reminds me of how I felt watching another debacle unfolding in another Gulf, when the Iraq War was spinning more and more out of control. In the Persian Gulf the world watched the destruction of a country and peoples' lives. In the Gulf of Mexico we're witnessing nothing less than the destruction of an ecosystem.
Another aspect of this debacle is the blame game alternating with denials of responsibility. The problem, as it was in Iraq, is there was no exit strategy. In Iraq speak, the oil would be greeted with debit cards at the pump. It would all be good. So here's the thing--while it's possible to drill a mile deep, it seems to have never occurred to the various engineers involved that they would need to have several back-ups in place in the event of a worst-case scenario.
There's plenty of blame to go around, and it's not just oil executives, engineers, the Coast Guard and government bureaucrats who are responsible. I was driving around town doing some errands, listening to news about the oil spill and getting more and more depressed. I noticed I was low on gas, so I pulled into a Diamond Shamrock (there's no way I'll ever buy gas from a BP station again). That's when it hit me that I'm responsible, too. I'm one of the hundreds of millions of people in the developed world who is addicted to oil.
Time to do my grocery shopping by rickshaw. Time to take the bus to Boulder. Time to start bugging state government to get off the dime and build that light rail system already.
And another thing--please don't tell me that the same people who put astronauts on the moon can't figure out how to stop this oil from gushing. Or that the public isn't willing to help. There are people who can no longer fish for a living along the Louisiana coast just standing by to help BP, the Coast Guard and the government clean up the mess. So far no one's taken them up on their offer. Maybe they're concerned about the liability involved in allowing citizen volunteers to do the work.
If this oil spill isn't a message from God telling the USA to rally together, I don't know what is.
I've been praying that this disaster forces BP to morph into an engineering company in charge of cleaning up other environmental disasters. Or better yet, that this is the environmental disaster to end all environmental disasters. This isn't just about what God does. We can't afford the psychological warfare that opposing parties (and I'm not just talking Democrats and Republicans in Congress) have indulged in for far too long. I pray that people will tire of the blame game and actually start thinking about how to solve this problem. And then get to work.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Strange Parallel
Yesterday I attended a Liz Ryan Career Altitude workshop. If you live in the greater Denver area, I highly recommend it. It was like a getting customized career advice rolled into a two-hour therapy session--exactly what's needed for a job seeker looking to reclaim her mojo.
Among the many things we discussed was putting the focus NOT on what you've done and how great you are at doing it, but instead on how what you've done is going to help your future employer.
I paraphrase Liz here: "Diana, you know how when you go on a first date with a guy, and all he wants to talk about is how great he is and all the great things he's done? And what a turn-off that is?"
I haven't dated in twenty-three years, so I only vaguely recall. "Well, I'd excuse myself to go to the bathroom and never come back."
Liz persisted. "OK. So what if you went out with someone who says to you, 'I don't mean to be creepy or anything, but has anyone ever told you have beautiful eyes? And only the most brilliant things ever issue forth from your lips?' " (OK, I added the part about the brilliant things.)
"I have to pee, but I'm not going anywhere," I said.
Bingo! The take-home message, whether it's romantic courtship or career courtship: Figure out what they want, and be the one to bring it to them.
Among the many things we discussed was putting the focus NOT on what you've done and how great you are at doing it, but instead on how what you've done is going to help your future employer.
I paraphrase Liz here: "Diana, you know how when you go on a first date with a guy, and all he wants to talk about is how great he is and all the great things he's done? And what a turn-off that is?"
I haven't dated in twenty-three years, so I only vaguely recall. "Well, I'd excuse myself to go to the bathroom and never come back."
Liz persisted. "OK. So what if you went out with someone who says to you, 'I don't mean to be creepy or anything, but has anyone ever told you have beautiful eyes? And only the most brilliant things ever issue forth from your lips?' " (OK, I added the part about the brilliant things.)
"I have to pee, but I'm not going anywhere," I said.
Bingo! The take-home message, whether it's romantic courtship or career courtship: Figure out what they want, and be the one to bring it to them.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Transitions
My 18-year-old son is graduating from high school on Saturday, and he'll be attending the University of Northern Colorado in the fall. In between he'll go to Peru with his Spanish teacher and some of the other students in his class.
When I mentioned his graduation in a Liz Ryan Career Altitude workshop yesterday (more on that in another post), one of the other participants said, "Congratulations on your graduation, too!"
Gulp. I hadn't thought of it this way. You see, it's mostly been all about him and my other son.
As big a transition as this is for him, it's big for me, too. Having only ever worked part-time since he was born, and then staying home for the last ten years to raise him and my other son, I've devoted more of my time and energy--not to mention my sense of self--to raising them than the average bear. Some might say I'm a fool. I say it's only proper that I did it this way.
As uncertain a time as this is for me, I'm finding that there's something else underlying it--pride in a job well-done. Joy, too, much to my surprise. That in itself may be my biggest accomplishment. Because during these years of staying at home I knew what some people think about stay-at-home moms--we're a spoiled, lazy, unambitious lot. All too often I bought into that, self-critical critter that I am. I often wondered if this was as good as it was going to get for me.
It's not like I've been monitoring the soap opera chat rooms--not that there's anything wrong with that. The thing is, I've had a job for the last ten years, and I daresay it's one that would have driven a lot of other people completely crazy. (Since I went into this enterprise already halfway there, I'm proud to say my sanity is as intact as it ever was.) Not everyone can keep house, run a small-scale cookie factory, juggle several volunteer jobs, care for the neighbor's macaw when they're in Scandinavia, bake a killer loaf of challah bread, write one of the two novels I worked on in the last decade, and cook wholesome dinners every night. And this would be what I did in a day, twisting and turning time to suit the peculiar rhythms of a housewife's day.
So now that my time as the main keeper of the hearth turns into something else, I'm going to allow myself to be proud of the fact that it's all been worth it. My 18-year-old is a caring, talented young man. I've still got my twelve-year-old at home. I figure he'll be my little boy for another few months, until the puberty fairy comes to visit.
To those of you in transition, I wish you the same pride in accomplishment.
When I mentioned his graduation in a Liz Ryan Career Altitude workshop yesterday (more on that in another post), one of the other participants said, "Congratulations on your graduation, too!"
Gulp. I hadn't thought of it this way. You see, it's mostly been all about him and my other son.
As big a transition as this is for him, it's big for me, too. Having only ever worked part-time since he was born, and then staying home for the last ten years to raise him and my other son, I've devoted more of my time and energy--not to mention my sense of self--to raising them than the average bear. Some might say I'm a fool. I say it's only proper that I did it this way.
As uncertain a time as this is for me, I'm finding that there's something else underlying it--pride in a job well-done. Joy, too, much to my surprise. That in itself may be my biggest accomplishment. Because during these years of staying at home I knew what some people think about stay-at-home moms--we're a spoiled, lazy, unambitious lot. All too often I bought into that, self-critical critter that I am. I often wondered if this was as good as it was going to get for me.
It's not like I've been monitoring the soap opera chat rooms--not that there's anything wrong with that. The thing is, I've had a job for the last ten years, and I daresay it's one that would have driven a lot of other people completely crazy. (Since I went into this enterprise already halfway there, I'm proud to say my sanity is as intact as it ever was.) Not everyone can keep house, run a small-scale cookie factory, juggle several volunteer jobs, care for the neighbor's macaw when they're in Scandinavia, bake a killer loaf of challah bread, write one of the two novels I worked on in the last decade, and cook wholesome dinners every night. And this would be what I did in a day, twisting and turning time to suit the peculiar rhythms of a housewife's day.
So now that my time as the main keeper of the hearth turns into something else, I'm going to allow myself to be proud of the fact that it's all been worth it. My 18-year-old is a caring, talented young man. I've still got my twelve-year-old at home. I figure he'll be my little boy for another few months, until the puberty fairy comes to visit.
To those of you in transition, I wish you the same pride in accomplishment.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Woody's Words on Worth
There's a poster of Woody Guthrie's song "Born to Win" that hangs over the family computer. The words are worth sharing.
I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling.
I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most by all sorts of folks just about like you.
I could hire out to the other side, the big money side and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you've not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyway.
I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling.
I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most by all sorts of folks just about like you.
I could hire out to the other side, the big money side and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you've not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyway.
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