Today is the first day...

Blah, blah, blah...

Although it's fricking true.  Still, blah, blah, blah.

I am at another, shall we say, "transition point" in my life.  The part-time contract that was supposed to be somewhat short-term and that I managed to actually stretch out for a full year - much past it's expiration date - is not-so-surprisingly coming to an end.

In the bigger picture, I know this is a good thing. 

And I know my friends are stuck providing me all the good trite sayings I would say to them in the same situation.  "Today is the first day of the rest of your life", etc., etc.

And I feel their pain.  I know that there is NOTHING they could say to me - trite or otherwise - that would necessarily penetrate this bubble of concern that is surrounding me.

Now, I'm not on full blown panic or distress (yet).  But I'm not exactly happy, either.

I have several months before full blown panic or distress comes in (not that I won't have my moments, mind you). 

One of the problems I have is that some of my contracts are open ended, so it's not always possible to prepare ahead of time for another one, because it's not always clear with the first one is going to end.  It took me eight months between the last one and this one to have more than a two or three week gig, and those were eight long months.  I made a small amount of savings stretch quite far.  I was quite impressed with myself, frankly.

But my savings going into this round, though, are a little less impressive because I had some serious dental bills at the beginning of the year.  So I'm nervous.

I try to have faith.  God and I are having quite a few conversations lately.  He's the strong silent type.  He knows anything he might say I'd probably respond "blah, blah, blah" to, much as I have been doing to my friends. But I am trying to have faith that when this door closes, another one will open.  Or a window (although it's starting to get chillier...).

I also know job hunting before Christmas is not always easy.  I've got an extra month or so jump from prior years when I've found myself in this situation, but I know once mid-November hits, I just have to hold on until January.  And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. 

The problem with these transition points, as I so politely call them, is that it also calls into question other "life choices".  Now this can be a good examination, or a not-so-good examination.  It is good and healthy, as a general rule, to make sure you stop and examine if you are in the place (literally, figuratively, metaphysically) that you want to be in your life, and when certain obligations that have been keeping you in those positions release, to confirm you are where you want to be.  Those are good examinations, because if you're going to make big changes in your life, these are good moments to make them.

The trouble is that the flip side of that can be a little bit like Alice's rabbit-hole.  And it doesn't take much to slip into full-on crisis and doubt that everything you've done to get yourself to this place and everything that you're doing is wrong.  And that you aren't supposed to be here, and .. well... you can already see how the cycle can swirl out of control quite quickly.

And I have spent a considerable amount of this summer beginning to wonder if this is the place I should be.  Wondering if despite how much I *do* like small town life, if this isn't still a bit too small for me - or perhaps, at least, not as diverse for me as I might want.  Surely there are small towns in the world with larger lesbian populations <*cough* Oregon *cough*>.   Of course even those that are nearby seem a little too political for my taste... (picky, picky, picky).  But in late June when my landlord told me I might have been better off if the Poltergeist tree had taken out my house, I have been wondering what I would do if it had.  Where would I go?  Would I stay here?

The problem, then, with grand sayings like "Today is the first day..." is that while it's meant to be optimistic and full of possibilities, is that it is just full of possibilities. And they swirl in front of someone with no direction like a tornado.  (And tornadoes are not good around here, because they bring down the BIG ASS TREE onto my house, and well...)

My friends are stuck in a hopeless situation.  I want feedback, I want *something* from them in response to my growing fear, and yet, I know, my response to anything they might offer me is "Blah, blah, blah..."  I'll have answers to refute any of their good suggestions (not that they won't stick in my craw and gestate even after I refute them) and that I will be quite stubborn and frustrating.  Which is why God stays silent.  He knows that actions speak louder than words.  Right, big guy? *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*

"Do not cling to events of the past or dwell on what happened long ago.  Watch for the new thing I am going to do.  It is happening already - you can see it now!  I will make a road through the wilderness and give you streams of water there."  (Isaiah 43)

I have carried this in my wallet for three years. 

Today is the first day....

A rose named Borg...

Original Title (so you can understand the original theme I was writing from): 
Rocks, Hard Places, Awkwardness and a Game Called Jenga

I've just had another individual from Twitter politely note, "I just realized I don't know your real name".  When I politely ignored that particular comment, she less passively (after politely waiting for one or two more exchanges) directly asked, "So... not gonna tell me your real name?"

There is only one person I've met on Twitter who knows my real name.  My full real name.  One other person knows my first name.  That's it. (So, yes, you two, you should feel REALLY special, but you can do so quietly)

And that is not an easy decision.  And by next week, that circle may increase. 

The first one who I gave it to had shared some quite intimate details about herself by e-mail earlier in the day, and that evening we were chatting by g-chat, and twenty minutes into the conversation she stated, finally, near the end of the conversation: "You have to tell me your name. I can't call you the borg blog!"

Um, yes you can?  And her argument, as go all the arguments I get, is "who am I going to tell?"

If she were to disclose herself (which I am asking her not to), she'd tell you that all she got for a long time was just my first name.  In fact, the last name slipped really only because I sent her an e-mail from the wrong account.  (Dratted iPhone and human error). 

This is not easy for me.  I do not like living in closets.  I do not like hiding who I am.  I have no desire to be the tiny "wizard" hiding behind some great contraption of fire and smoke appearing to be bigger than who I am.  I HATE closets (except the big walk-in kinds where I can keep my clothes that I've never actually had the joy of having...).

I have written several blog entries already about anonymity.  I don't know if I've tagged them all, but you'll see several of them if you click on the label over there on the right.  This is something I've struggled with.  And still struggle with.

At some level, in my last anonymity post, I acknowledged that I could not keep my two worlds separate forever.  But that each time one side touches the other side, it's like taking out a piece in a game of Jenga.  The first pieces are easy, and bring no significant threat to the structure.  Really, only the dog wagging its tail will knock it down. As a side note, playing Jenga with a yellow lab puppy, by the way, is very hard to do!  But there does come a time where you've taken out so many pieces it makes the structure very precarious, and even the slight vibrations from the plane taking off nearby or the train rumbling by (I've lived both near airports and train tracks) will knock it down while you aren't even looking.

Part of the reason for this blog, I've admitted openly, is as a way for me to heal from the loss of some important people in my life.  People I've loved dearly.  People I still love dearly.  While really I am writing in here only about me, I'm not.  And I live in a small enough town that you would know who (crap, what was the name I gave him, oh, yeah) Tom was, and you'd know who tulip girl was, and you'd know who a lot of people were if you knew who I was.  And while Robin Sparkles doesn't live here in town, and is an old friend from college, it wouldn't necessarily take long to identify her.  (It is true, though, that I don't feel a compelling need to protect Tom, but I also don't need someone telling him I'm writing about him and have him track down this blog, either! *smile!*)

And the reality is that one of my points from the beginning, and I still maintain today, is that we all could be you.  Or someone you know just down the street.  Who we are - name wise - is unimportant to understanding and enjoying (I hope) our story.  And maybe you can take insight you learn from reading here to apply to that person down the street whom I remind you of.  That reading about my struggles and my successes and reading my thoughts and ramblings might just help bring us all together as one loving society and community (Okay, there's that big ass guy full of smoke and mirrors, but....).  That knowing who I am as an individual shouldn't affect your ability to relate to what I'm writing.

But last week, it got even more complicated and troublesome keeping these worlds separate.  Because last week my tweeps did something that a lot of people in my real life have never done.  Heard my call for "help" and came and supported me EVEN if they thought I was nuts to think I needed help, and/or thought I was being really irrational and over-reacting.  EVEN when they didn't agree with me, they still supported me.  Simply because I asked for it.  And until they did it, I didn't realize how absent that had been, for the most part, in my life. 

It was a real WOW moment.  A real you-guys-are-really-special and where-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of moment!! And yet, I won't / can't / don't even tell them my name?

And this is the moment where I change the title of this post.  I gave you the original title above so you can see the framework I started with, and understand where I am or was going.  But somewhere along the line most of you have decided that I smell just as sweet, even if my name is Borg, instead of ________.  And that's pretty darn special.  And I'm pretty darn lucky!!

Have patience with me, then, my friends.  Because so many of you have become my friends.  This is not personal to you - it is my fears, my concerns, and my need and desire to protect others whom I care about, too.  I know that you can respect me on this.  I've seen how you support me, despite my name.  And I appreciate you all. 

-----

If you're new to this somewhat one-sided conversation I keep having about this, I suggest you can read the following posts to catch up on some of my thoughts (if you've read everything I've written, you can skip this and go to the bottom of the entry, post your comment and collect your prize):

I addressed the topic on my very first day of writing this blog in a post called Assimilation.

There I wrote:

 Our experiences while seeming unique to ourselves are also universal.

... 

When one becomes assimilated into the Collective, they become one with another, and all of their memories are now part of the collective. There is no unique "I" in Borg. There is just Borg.

So while you think you may know me, you probably don't. Or rather you may know me, because my experiences are similar to yours or those you do know. But you do not know my identity.

Three months later, I addressed the topic directly again in my post Clark Kent .. This is when I began to realize I might want Lois Lane to know that I was both Clark Kent and Superman so she'd know she was in love with me (well, maybe not quite that...).  And what would I do at that point?  Mostly I was looking for the Anonymous Anonymous support group.  I was sure that Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman and all the other caped (and not so caped) crusaders might be dealing with some of the same issues I was just starting to deal with.. (and this was before I ever even knew anything about Blogher and then began to wonder how could I ever go?)

The blog post titled simply Anonymity really does state some of the reasons above (protecting others, and also a little left over self-protection) and I think it was when I typed that post that I began to decide this recurring theme / topic needed to have a label of its own.  I also described briefly a very unpleasant encounter I had with one twit (because frankly she was a twit) who got really upset and really rude when I gave her a generic answer in response to a direct question about where I lived.  Frankly, given her response - and she was one of the first people to ask me anything so particular (which I realize is not that particular at all) - it reinforced my rationale to remain somewhat anonymous.  This person, frankly, even now long after I've blocked her, still scares me.  I'm glad she only has a narrow geographic region in which to ponder where she might find me. 

I also talked briefly about the sensitivity I had about my identity / location after leaving an abusive relationship.  There are, unfortunately, people who I have been close to in my life who don't have any idea where I am.  For some of them, I wish I could change that.  For some, eventually over time, I will.  But for many, unfortunately, I just had to disappear.  Facebook has managed to keep me in touch with many I might otherwise have lost touch with, but my in real life close friends (only one of which is on here from that period) will tell you it was still months - if not a year - before I revealed specifically where I was in even that closed environment of hand-picked friends.  While MOSTLY I am over that, I admit my steadfast responses are cultivated / learned from that experience.  As I wrote in Anonymity, murder-suicide was most certainly an option on the table at the end that many - including myself - were afraid could happen.  I think enough time has passed that it is very minusculely likely to happen, but when you experience that possibility and that kind of fear, trust me, you learn to be a little protective. 

(Wow, that took me back to such a lovely dark place - are any of you still here? ;) )

I wrote Anonymity Revisited after I told an in real life friend - not a local friend, of course! - about the blog since it and Twitter is becoming such a big part of my life - at least big parts that I am excited and enthused about.  The world didn't fall apart when I told her.  Although it did give her a bit more information about something she'd known a little bit about.  And she didn't (to the best of my knowledge) rush off and plaster it all over Facebook.  And she hasn't disowned me as a friend.  Again, an early Jenga piece.

And then a month ago, I finally came up with the Jenga analogy after I felt safe enough to share this blog with a memory-impaired local friend (she will agree with me, if she ever does find the blog again, that "memory-impaired" is a fair term to use to describe her lately).  It was somewhat safe because she's likely already forgotten about the blog, or if she remembers it, has no memory of how to find it or what it was called.  It was also somewhat safe because the things that I write on here about local people would not be news to her, would not reveal any new "secrets" and she has already demonstrated, as such, that I can trust her not to hurt the people I love with the information that she knows. 

--------- (did you skip above? Start reading again here....)

I have fallen in love with the Jenga analogy.  It fits this perfectly. Because that one friend asking, "Who am I going to tell? What harm will it do?" is correct that telling just her alone will not cause my life or this separation to come crumbling down.  It won't.  But telling a lot of people, even one piece at a time, will make it harder to keep this construct up. 

Basically, I've come to the conclusion that the wall will naturally come down as soon as I become as popular as Jenny The Bloggess - one of my "heroes".  But until then, and until I have a book deal and a way to support myself through the publishing of this blog and my ramblings, I hope you won't mind if I try to preserve this delicate balance for as long as I can.  Because I admit, if and when that happens, if and when the Jenga pieces all start crumbling down, I'm going to have to think long and hard about possibly pulling some of my more 'exposing' posts, even though, of course, they've all been out there.  And I don't want to censor or edit myself. 

As I said, I don't like hiding.  All while writing this really, really long post about why I'm hiding.

Yeah, look over there, one of the labels, too, is "inconsistency" - what can't see it? It's right there wedged between "I'm human" and "insanity" (at least at the moment I type this! I'm sure over time I'll find some other 'i' label to add...)

For those of you who made it all the way to the end of this post - wow! Thank you.  And congratulate yourselves - or give me an opportunity to congratulate you for reading this really long somewhat winding post - by posting a comment here, too.  I promise to comment back and thank you, and add you to my list of REALLY loyal supporters! ;)

And in the meantime, I hope you accept this rose is named Borg... I swear I smell as sweet (I *did* take a shower this morning!) as whatever my "real life" name does. 

Jenga

So, I have come with a new analogy for this balancing act I am doing - or trying to do - with being anonymous here. 

I have decided it is like one big game of Jenga, and each time I tell someone I meet as BorgBlog my own true identity - or facts, even, that are greater and more significant or identifying than I have published here, I pull out a piece like a big Jenga game.  And each time I tell one of my IRL friends that I'm doing an anonymous blog, or even more, show them the blog, I pull out another piece.

Early on, Jenga is easy.  You can pull out lots of pieces without the whole thing crumbling down.  But there comes a time - there always comes a time - when you pull out one piece too many and it all comes crumbling down.  I'm not there yet.  I've only pulled out four or five blocks, but with each block I know I am only getting closer to the point when it all may crumbling down.

The last two Friday nights I have missed #wineparty in favor of #happyhour.  Half price drinks and appetizers at the local Applebees with a friend of mine.

And last night, I pulled a Jenga piece and told her about my blog.  We went back to her place to hang out, and it was fun, I admit, to watch her peruse through the blog on her iPad and watch the expressions on her face, hear her laugh, and share something that has become an important part of my life with her.  Even watching her as she made a sad expression on her face, pushing out her bottom lip, at the end of reading P.S. I love you (one of my favorites - an oldie but goodie).  She had a hard time believing that all those entries on the right there were written by me.  Once she started reading, of course, I'm sure she recognized my voice. 

It was amusing as I'd say, "Read x" next.  Or she'd browse on her own, and I'd say, "No, you have to read this one first..."  She was amazed (I'd like to think) at my knowledge and quick reference to the various entries from my blog.  Although there were still a few occasions when she'd ask me about some obscure reference I have no memory of writing, and I'd have to remind her I'd written 140 entries - I can't remember them all.  (There's that inconsistency thing).

This block will not make the whole anonymity come crumbling down.  She is one who has kept my secrets for years... But one day, I will pull one too many pieces. 

But that's okay.  When I do, I'll just take Jenny The Bloggess' path, and publish my own book!  ;)

Practicing Patience

The original title of this post was "Back the Bus Up!" - a title that reflected my frustration when I first began it.  But I decided to "practice patience," and step away from it for a few days, so that I could - to quote the Dalai Lama - respond "in an appropriate and compassionate manner rather than being driven by [my] anger and irritation."  Taking the time to back off and think has changed the focus of the post.  I left the front part - the build-up - so that you can understand the framework behind the post. I admit wholly that this post could benefit from probably a little more practice at patience, but it'll have to do for now.  I am, after all, only human. 

Now, I'm gonna rant a little in here.  Just warning you upfront.  And I welcome any ranting back.  Go ahead, get it out.  But, I ask just one thing, first.  Read through the whole entry before releasing your rant on me.  Thank you.

I've been observing a trend lately - that I know is not new, but I've just been paying attention to it.  This is the tendency to shoot first, think later, if at all.

We are not generous with each other, nor do we, apparently, naturally expect generosity from each other.  So when we hear something, we often quickly react - whether in action or word or merely in thought - and often don't step back and really think about what might have happened.  Then this spirals.  Quickly. 

You read meanness into your co-worker's e-mail, so you send something short and sharp back.  The co-worker that thought she was being nice is now upset because you're upset at her, and suddenly something innocent - and perhaps even generous - has become something else due to a misunderstanding and a miscommunication.

I have problems with lawn mowers.  As long as they do not belong to me, I can start them and use them just fine.  Once they come under my ownership, I, no longer, have the power or ability to make them go.  I have no idea why, but this is a pattern I have observed, so - in the spirit of this post - I choose to take it personally.

I received a note the other day from a neighbor who had clearly observed I was having problems getting my lawn mowed.  He (or she?) offered to mow my lawn for me if I wanted, and left his number and suggested a $10 payment.  I walked in and found it on my door, and felt a little sheepish because I know my lawn is getting long, and took his note as nothing but kind-hearted generousness.  Yes, he suggested a fee, but I took it as kindness.

Later, after getting settled in, I was sharing my day with a friend, and I mentioned this note.  She was immediately offended on my behalf and basically suggested I tell him to shove his lawn-mower where the sun don't shine (which doesn't make sense, because if the sun didn't shine, then the grass wouldn't grow, and then you wouldn't need a lawnmower???  But I digress).

I was a little surprised at her reaction, and I reassured her that, no, I thought he was just being kind. I went back and re-read the note, though, and saw that, yes, one could - I guess - take offense to it.

And this is the problem that I am observing.  Faced with a choice of whether or not to take offense, so often so many of us seem to be choosing the take offense option rather than step back and try to figure out what might be going on.

Even the best intentioned person says stupid things.  Some of them are genuinely stupid, and that person should be taken out back and at least gently explained why what they said was inappropriate. 

But if someone doesn't tell us, then how do we learn?  Oh, yes.  We learn by seeing outrageous reactions to what was meant to be harmless comments.  An e-mail among co-workers, a note among neighbors, a twit (er, tweet, whatever you call it) among strangers, or a warm open invitation among friends.

We all have land mines.  Things that even if Mother Teresa said them to us (well, maybe I should choose someone living, like my favorite, the Dalai Lama) we'd hear in the most negative light. 

I love the Dalai Lama. I've been looking back at some of his recent works to try and find the right quote for this post. 

This sorta fits:

If we can manage to refrain from harming others in our everyday actions and words, we can start to give more serious attention to actively doing good, and this can be a source of great joy and inner confidence. We can benefit others through our actions by being warm and generous toward them, by being charitable, and by helping those in need.

Refraining from harming others.  Good idea.  Benefiting them by being warm and generous towards them.  Also good.

This other one is something I've had posted lately for myself to remember by reading and re-reading

The practice of patience protects us from losing our composure. In doing that it enables us to exercise discernment, even in the heat of difficult situations. It gives us inner space. And within that space we gain a degree of self-control, which allows us to respond to situations in an appropriate and compassionate manner rather than being driven by our anger and irritation.

And I do think it fits this post well - that if we manage to practice patience and protect ourselves from losing our composure, then we can think more appropriately about the situation and how to react.

In the last twenty four hours, two separate and unrelated "events" occurred with me that has brought this issue to a head for me, and inspired this post.

The first was inadvertently tripping over a trigger for a Twitter fan.  The second was recognizing that I, now, have a new trigger of my own.

I was having friendly banter with someone new yesterday afternoon via Twitter.  Saw a post she made about a place I used to live, and at lunch, I posted a comment in return.  Read a few more of her twits, tweets, wha-t-ever - I'm not going to become a Twitter person at this rate!!! - and enjoyed some things she had to said, and made a few more comments in reply.  She replied back to me and we started an enjoyable little banter online. Or so I thought.

At one point she asked a personal identifying question of me.  The question was perfectly reasonable, and certainly understandable in the context of the banter thus far.  Well.. this raised an issue I've been trying to figure out how to deal with, and wrote about in my post Clark Kent - what to tell who and where?  So I gave a general answer rather than a specific one, and apparently tripped over a trigger with her.  What happened next may be familiar to those of you who twit on a regular basis, but let's just sum it up by saying it spiraled out of control quickly with her getting more and more upset by my responses, and me being more and more confused, dumbfounded and hurt by hers. 

What became clear from her responses is that she is someone who has been hurt a lot by others, and therefore doesn't trust anyone.  I'm a stranger - I don't expect a very high level of trust.  But I would also not expect - and did not expect - a high level of DIS-trust.  Essentially, her argument boiled down to was that "all women lie, therefore, you must be lying."  I was a bit bewildered by that because, frankly, I couldn't figure out what she thought I had to gain by lying to her about very basic things.  Nor what she thought I wanted from her.   These are questions I still have no answers to.

The only thing that was clear was that in the moment, I had irritated and angered her.  She was unable to step back and think through the situation to think about it calmly.  Let alone compassionately.

And within that space we gain a degree of self-control, which allows us to respond to situations in an appropriate and compassionate manner rather than being driven by our anger and irritation.

Instead, she immediately assumed the worst about me - a virtual stranger - that I was a lying, playing mind games and thinking it was cute. 

In the meantime, I was off on my way to spend some time with a friend.  She has a weekend get-away spot that she goes to most every weekend, and has told me repeatedly, that I'm welcome anytime.  So, taking her up on that, I joined her this past weekend.  Driving home, I felt as frustrated with that situation as I had driving up about the Twitter exchange.  I took some time to analyze my feelings, and realized that while it is "sweet" to think that I am welcome anytime - an open invitation I receive from many people - I came to recognize in that moment that I never wanted that kind of "invitation" again. 

I knew I was reacting strongly rather than responding in an appropriate and compassionate manner, and instead I was being driven by my anger and irritation. And I know, nonetheless, that the next time someone utters those words, "You're welcome anytime" that they're likely to get a reaction that doesn't belong to them.  Much as I had received from my friendly twit not 24 hours earlier.  The details and analysis of THAT situation I will save for another post. 

But when I began this post, I was very much aware of the similarities.  Perhaps it provided me a small measure of compassion for my friendly twit.   It made me realize, though, the need to encourage people to take a moment and back the bus up (the original title) and think about a situation before immediately reacting to it.  Did that co-worker mean what I thought she meant in that e-mail, or is there another explanation?  What happens when I look at the situation from a more compassionate perspective than an immediately offended perspective?  How can I avoid the spiral?

And I think the Dalai Lama got it right.  When I first read that passage, I wondered "How does one practice patience?"  I thought about those hotel.com commercials where the one co-worker / friend is trying to teach the other how to wait and not feel the need to book immediately to get the best deal.  Watching the turtles race.  Going to the DMV.  And I didn't think that was the way, but I didn't know how - in real life - one "practices" patience.

Change begins with me.  It is easy to get lost and caught in that space of impatience, frustration and irritation, and then pay it forward.  But I know that whenever I do that, all that I do is increase the level of impatience, frustration and irritation in the world.  That if I respond with generosity, if I respond with compassion, maybe, just maybe, that generosity might encourage generosity in others.

Next time someone pushes your buttons, or acts in a manner that you find offensive, step back - back the bus up! - and try to respond in a compassionate manner. Try and stop the spiral.  Try to pay the generosity forward. 

If you respond, "but yeah, all women are liars, why should I trust them?" or some similar knee-jerk reaction to behavior stop and ask what you have to lose by responding with kindness and generosity rather than irritation.  (Ask, so what if I *am* a liar?  How does that really hurt you?  I am a stranger who lives several thousand miles away who you only interacted with for the first time in the past few hours.)  Try and practice patience. 

As the Dalai Lama said:  We can benefit others through our actions by being warm and generous toward them, by being charitable, and by helping those in need.

Let me know how it goes, and feel free to write me about your experiences.  Or rant.  Whichever.  The first will bring a smile to my face and the second will give me more opportunities to practice.  ;)


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Elevator Speech

I have lived in big metropolitan areas, so I remember what an elevator is.  But I do laugh at this expression now, living here in a small town where I can't really recall the last time I was on an elevator.  Seriously.

But a friend of mine who is going through a divorce was trying to formulate her "elevator speech" for when she met new people.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the term (like those of us who don't live around elevators anymore), basically you have time travelling in a tall building up and down the elevator with strangers.  Enough time to strike up an albeit quick conversation.  A chance to get to know each other.

Quick is the operative word.  The theory is you have about 30 seconds. (Unless, of course, some bozo hit all the buttons - don't be that bozo)

And the point is for entrepreneurs to use that time wisely to sell whatever it is you're selling.  You have thirty seconds.

That, and when you go to networking meetings, to meet other entrepreneurs, you are usually given about 30 seconds to introduce yourself and whatever it is you're selling.

Thirty seconds.

Since my friend brought it up, I've been thinking about it. 

While the term is frequently used in a business context, frankly, it's usuable in many social situations.  I mean you probably wouldn't want to start with your elevator speech in a bar when you meet someone, but it's good to have a few soundbites practiced and ready to give out to summarize your life down to edible nuggets.

When you live in a town where the only elevator takes you up just a story or two, you have to be fast.

But we are living in a world of sound-bites.  You have 140 characters to twit tweet the perfect line.  Facebook seems to have relaxed it's character limitations.  But let's face it, no-one reads the notes very often.  Often all we get from people are the headlines, the quick lines.

I am a person who tends to operate with a best friend.  Someone I share all my random thoughts with.  That person may or may not also be a lover, but I need and like a best friend.  Because I have a lot that goes through my head and I like to share.  (Haven't you figured that out?)  Maybe it's that ADD-thing.

But that's a lot of responsibility for just one person.  And it isn't infrequent for me to have someone say "I'll read every word you write" to eventually, not.   (It stings just a wee bit when she's the current love of your life, but...)

So, it should not be surprising, in this round about fashion, that I have turned to blogging.  Because all the stuff flying through my head is too much for one person to absorb.  So I need to spread it around.

And I have chosen you.

Make me no promises to read my every word - I have trust issues there - but feel free to do so.  And let me know what you think.  My best friends will be happy to share the reading responsibilities with you.


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