Yeah, Write

Happiness in Hindsight

I have tons to do today (who doesn't?) but I had to pause and capture some thoughts that have been coursing through my head.

I've always been puzzled by the quote: "Happiness isn't something you experience; it's something you remember." ~Oscar Levant

I wasn't always sure I agreed with that. I know I've experienced happiness, joy, or delight and recognized the feeling at the time. But the truth of this phrase is becoming more and more clear to me.

Recently, after a 6-mile training run for an upcoming half-marathon, I included the following as my Facebook update: "It's all coming back to me now: long runs are only fun in hindsight."

Because, once the run is over, the side aches and swollen fingers and mind games (just run to that red car, okay you can make it to that tall tree, okay now just one more block...) melt completely away, and I'm left with the distance my legs carried me. And feelings of power and pride. Looking back, that run was a good time.

And that somehow reminds me of that Baz Luhrman "talk-song" from the '90s, which was based on a graduation speech by Mary Schmich. It started, "Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth."

I loved that. I'd turn it up and soak it in whenever it played on the radio of my gold Mazda 626. And I made this phrase my mantra. I said to myself again and again, "Enjoy this. Appreciate this." But how?

Part of me wanted to prove wrong the next part of the song: "Oh, nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked."

And now that the years have passed, I get it. I'm hardly old and decrepit. I'm not quite ready for the rest home. But I get it. It's true.

I couldn't appreciate the power and beauty of youth, not really, not until after the fact. (Which is something I try to tell my 24-year-old sister all the time.) Because along with the power and beauty, there was angst, there was insecurity and uncertainty, there were heartbreaks and hurdles.

But, oh, I tried to appreciate being young. I'd look in the mirror and tell myself to be happy about my lack of wrinkles, the youthful glow of my skin. And I was as happy as I could be about it. But without the context of age and experience, how could I appreciate it, really? At the moment, I was who I was and couldn't imagine being anyone else.

"The question before me...is how to be alive,...as this mere singing wren, who thinks he's alive forever, this instant, and may be." ~Wendell Barry

And all that looking in the mirror would do was make me afraid for the time when those things would no longer be true. If I love my smooth, clear skin now (which, let's face it, was never as clear and smooth as I'm now remembering it), won't I hate it when the dreaded crow's feet and smile lines carve their way into my features? Won't I be desperate to go back?

This has all arisen because of an inescapable fact: babies accelerate time. They do. And this is coming from a person who is NOT unacquainted with the phrase "they grow up too fast." I have a 6 ft. 3 in. guitar-playing teenager living in my house who was a 7-year-old, blond, Harry Potter lookalike just moments ago. (He looked like the original book cover art, not Daniel Radcliffe, mind you.)

So now, with Keira Jane playing at my feet while I type, I tell myself, "this goes so fast, enjoy every moment."And I do focus a lot of energy on watching, listening, cuddling, and trying to memorize everything about her. Remember this, remember this, remember this.

But try as I may, there's no way I can appreciate her enough right now. I'll only be able to see her clearly when I look back. And appreciating her now will not keep her small. The more I tell myself "appreciate, appreciate, appreciate," the more I feel like I'm just watching sand slither through an hourglass.

When I hold my friend's sweet baby, Audrey Claire, almost three months younger than Keira Jane, I find I've already forgotten what it feels like to hold an infant so delicate. My little one has five months of baby chub, dimpled fists that can grab necklaces and hair, fingers that have found their way into her mouth. She's alert and exploring her world, no longer sleeping off the disorienting ordeal of birth. And I'm stunned at how quickly I've forgotten how it feels to hold one so young.

When Keira was teeny tiny, almost every visitor who came to hold her would say, "Oh, I can't remember how to hold them when they're this small." They'd reach out so gingerly, afraid they'd shatter her. "Oh, come on. Here," I'd say and just hand her over. I got used to her tininess so quickly. Yes, she was delicate, but she was strong, hardy, not as breakable as we think.

But that moment of being an experienced mother of a 2-week-old baby is already gone. Now I know how to hold a 4 1/2 month old. And soon, that will be a memory, too.

So I take photos. And I write things down the moment I feel them--doing my best to hang on to things that are so very fleeting. And I'm already grateful that I'm trying to stem the tide of time, that impossible task.

On Sunday, January 23, 2011, at 5:09 a.m., I wrote this in my iPhone Momento app:
"I want to memorize the smell, the feel of her cheek, perfect, plump and smooth, when she's heavy with sleep. I nuzzle the folds of her neck and drink her in."

And then it comes back to me.

Cool Giveaway for My Fellow Procastinators

If you tend to leave things until the very last minute, as I so dearly love to do, this is one time you'll be rewarded for your procastination!

Today, I'm giving away two 2011 planners to two lucky winners! And these aren't just any planners, they're customizable PHOTO planners from Per Annum. I have one 6 x 8 and one 4 x 6 version to offer to two lucky readers. Here's hoping there are at least two of you out there who don't have their planning system for 2011 quite figured out yet.

But here's another tip: You could easily use this as a journal! Write just one meaningful memory, thought, experience, or tidbit every single day in 2011. It's a great way to get into a regular journaling habit, and the small space on the week-at-a-glance pages takes the pressure off of needing to write very much. (I've done the daily journaling thing a couple of times, as you can see in this article, and it's incredibly worthwhile.)

Here's what I've done with mine:

I decorated the cover and punched tabs (using my McGill label punch) for each month out of patterned paper.

I included my guiding word for 2011 on the cover. (It's a little thing Ali Edwards started a few years ago. Choose one word to live by for the year. My word is "purpose." I want to be purposeful with all my daily decisions live a life that's infused with meaning and intention.)

I decorated the inside cover as well and covered up the title page with labels and rub-ons that match my overall look. I included a list of things that I think are important to aim for every single day, and I've made these things additional goals.

There's a photo sleeve that starts off each month of the year, and I plan to create a new one each month as the year progresses. This is the January sleeve, and it includes two favorite pictures from 2010. On the reverse side of this page, I'll include a favorite photo or two from January 2011 at the end of the month, and also create February's page, featuring favorite photos from last February.

Here's the January month-at-a-glance page. Not much happening yet, but it's sure to fill up faster than I want it to.

Incidentally, this is my first venture away from the FranklinCovey planning system, which I've used since 2001, when I worked as an editor in FranklinCovey's planner division. (Did you know I used to be the girl who selected the quotes for the daily planners? Fun job for a girl fresh out of college!) I'm looking forward to trying something new. I really had a blast customizing this and playing with my supplies.

So, would you like to win one?

Leave me a comment sharing what planning system you use, and how you'd use this if you won it. I'll choose winners on January 3rd and mail the prizes that same day, so you'll have it in your hot little hands before the first week of January is over!

Procrastinators, unite.

Happy New Year's Eve!

 

One Writing Tip for the Holidays

Hop on over to Rebecca Cooper's blog today, where I wax philosophical about "in the moment journaling" and explain the significance of the dorky picture above.

Also, there's a giveaway there, too! You could win either of my eBooks, Quick & Creative Quizzes or Journaling That Matters.

Off to finish up last-minute holiday gifts!

Lucas out.

 

My Life: A Monthly Quiz Album

Here's an album I worked on over the course of my 33rd year. And now that another birthday has come and gone, I'm prepared to share it with you! It's so simple.

Here's how:

1. Print and trim out the same quiz 15 times (you only need 12 copies for your album, but you're bound to mess up on a couple). To download the 4 x 6 quiz I used, visit the Ella blog today.

2. Choose a coordinated product line, and spend an evening setting up 12 pages or spreads, all following an identical design scheme to save time and stress. Leave spaces on each page for journaling and photos.

3. On the last day of each month, fill in your answers to the quiz, and choose a couple of pictures from the month to go with it. Add them to your album.

And it goes on from here for six more months.

Enjoying this quiz approach? Remember to download the exact quiz I used over at the Ella blog. And while you're there, get a dozen or so completely original (and fun!) quizzes in the eBook I co-authored with Wendy Smedley, Quick & Creative Quizzes, at ellapublishing.com. You can even win a free copy of this eBook on the Ella blog today!

p.s. If you persevered through ALL that journaling, and you thought I sounded a bit conceited when I said, "The Lord loves me," I'd like to clarify. Yes, I believe the Lord loves me, but He also loves everyone else too (including you). Just so we're on the same page about my perceived humility (or lack thereof).

Angie's Grammar Manifesto

Over the years that I've been blogging, I've had several readers express a reluctance to comment on my posts, for fear that their lack of perfect spelling or punctuation will defile the grammatical purity of the Yeah, Write website. Nonsense! With that in mind, I now declare my 10-point Grammar Manifesto.

1. This is a No-Judgment Zone.
I do not ever correct a person's grammar (either spoken or written) unless I'm being paid to do so. Neither do I sit back with a false sense of superiority and ridicule other people's writing efforts, unless I'm being paid to do so (which would be an interesting gig, I admit). If you like having friends, you shouldn't run around correcting people's grammar either.

2. All Writers are Not Created Equal.
I hold professionally trained writers and editors to a higher standard. If I critique the word usage in an advertisement or a published book, it's only because there should be someone involved who knows better. If you own a business, and you don't know better—because you're a genius at selling shoes rather than at punctuating signs—just hire or bribe the biggest Word Nerd you know to proofread your store's marquee, flyers, and advertisements before exposing them to the public eye.

3. There's a Difference Between Formal and Informal Writing.
Every attempt should be made to properly punctuate and spell research papers, dissertations, resumes, corporate signage, advertisements, newspaper articles, and company memos. But blogs, blog comments, Tweets, FaceBook statuses, and text messages all count as informal communication. I will never look down on you for writing whatever comes to mind in a blog comment. After all, you're probably just doing your best to respond in between chasing your toddler and folding laundry, and I'd rather have a quickly dashed-off comment than no comment at all.

4. Write Anyway!
When it comes to journaling, scrapbooking, and journal keeping, you should never let feelings of inferiority keep you from telling your story! Do not let the pressure to express yourself perfectly prevent you from expressing yourself at all. So much insight is gained by exploring one's thoughts on paper or on a computer screen. Your perspective is invaluable to yourself and your family, whether or not you are the Queen of Run-on Sentences. Write your memories down. The more you write, the more you'll discover your voice and learn to express yourself clearly.

5. Practice Makes Progress.
The best way to improve your writing is to practice, to read things that are written well, and to look up the things you don't know. (Or ask me, and I'll try to help!) If you're paralyzed by feelings of insecurity, take a basic writing course through your local community education program to build your confidence. Think to yourself, "I'm capable of writing well. I just lack the practice." Then, if writing well is important to you, put in the time to work on your skills! (Notice that I didn't say "practice makes perfect." No piece of writing will ever be perfect, and that shouldn't be your goal.)

6. Authenticity Rules.
I would rather read something that's full of creativity, soul, and heart—but lacks proper grammar and punctuation—than a dry and boring treatise that doesn't have a single comma out of place. Remember that fiction writers and poets play fast and loose with grammar, often for a specific effect. For example, Pulitzer-Prize-winning author Cormac McCarthy completely omitted quotation marks to designate dialogue as well as apostrophes (cant instead of can't; dont instead of don't) in his powerful novel, The Road. And the revered poet e.e. cummings famously eschewed capitalization in his poetry—and in all of his correspondence, I believe.

7. No Editor is Infallible.
I do not know everything about grammar. I have a knack for it, I've taken multiple courses on the subject, I practice frequently, and I research questions that come up. But I'm no grammarian. A true grammarian would be familiar with all 37 pages of rules regarding the proper use of the comma in the Chicago Manual of Style. I fell asleep on page 2. However, I know my own pitfalls, and I always look things up when I'm not sure. (And I find myself looking up some of the same questions over and over again.)

8. Proofreading Matters.
I edit everything I write. You should know that impeccable sentences do not burst out of me intact. I write, I read what I've written, I futz around with it a bit, I futz around some more, and only then do I publish it.

9. You're Better at Math Than I Am.
Everyone has different strengths. Some of the most intelligent adults I know wouldn't stand a chance in a 3rd-grade spelling bee. I'm the only Word Nerd in my family of six children. That doesn't make the rest of them idiots. I can't do calculus like my brother Dan, and I don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of the internal organs like my sister Michele, nor can I recite the starting lineup of every NFL and NBA team since 1978 like my brother Jon. My gifts make me valuable in certain situations, just like their gifts make them valuable in other situations.

10. Scrabble Scores Do Not Predict Writing Ability.
So you suck at Scrabble, so what? That doesn't mean you can't be an interesting and engaging writer. My little brother Dan—who is 8 years younger than I am, spent more time studying math and science than English, makes his living as a nurse, and never EVER reads for pleasure—can kick my butt at Scrabble. He's some sort of prodigy, and he knows it. Rarely a game goes by without him getting a 50-point bonus for using all seven of his tiles in a single play. I'd accuse him of cheating, but I don't think it's possible to "mark tiles" the way poker sharks mark cards.

Questions? Comments? Let me hear 'em!

A Few of My Favorite Things

1. Jovie
She doesn't have a tail (many of her breed don't) so she wags her entire back end when she's excited. It's so cute. We call her "wiggle butt."

2. Shelby
I got the following email from my friend Rachel: "When I visited your blog this morning, I had Shelby on my lap. When she saw your picture, she slapped her little hands to her face and began crying, 'Oh, no! Oh, no!' When I asked her what was wrong, she pointed to your picture and said, 'Miss her.' I thought that was a pretty good sign that we haven't seen you in far too long." So, needless to say, we're going to lunch today.

3. Dog Heaven
I love this children's book. I know several people who have lost pets recently, and we still miss Ruby so much. Dog Heaven by Cynthia Rylant makes my heart smile (and my eyes water) whenever I read it.

4. LOST
It's starting to make sense this season! Even when I don't get it, I still love it.

5. Demetri Martin
Whenever I'm tempted to have a tiny celebrity crush on someone, I like to find out if the crush is age appropriate. While Demetri might LOOK 21, he's actually three years older than me. Hurray!

"I think vampires must have an innate sense of style, because they look pretty good, but they can't see themselves in a mirror."

6.Foam Leg Roller
When you're training for a half-marathon (which I think I might be doing again), this little baby hurts SO good. Just looking at this picture makes my IT bands hurt. (Click the picture to read how it works.)



7. Coconut Popcorn
My Brother-in-Law Mike invented this, I think. You air-pop your popcorn, and instead of melting butter to drizzle over it, you melt Coconut Oil instead, and then you salt it as normal. It's not sweet at all, but there's a very slight coconut taste to the popcorn. And coconut oil is much better for your heart than butter is. It's the only way we eat popcorn anymore!

8. Atul Gawande
Brilliant physician/writer who has written three books (I'm working on The Checklist Manifesto at the moment) and also writes for The New Yorker.

9. Shades of Ray
Adorable and pitch-perfect romantic comedy that Travis and I watched on our anniversary.

10. Listography
Write about your life in list form. The lists are both helpful and hilarious! ("List bad things you did as a kid," "List your favorite restaurants," "List all the people you've kissed.")

Six Years

February 21, 2004. My wedding day.

February 21, 2010. My 6th anniversary.

We kept our celebration simple and made it last all weekend long. Jeremy was gone this weekend, so it was just the two of us. We went out for chicken schnitzel and paprikash at The Bohemian. We went on long drives. We slept in. We read books. We re-watched favorite episodes of 30 Rock (favorite quote: "Coma-napra-sil? Side effects may include dizziness, sexual nightmares, and sleep crimes.") We taught Jovie to give us high fives in exchange for Cap'n Crunch Peanut Butter cereal. We drank Pamplemouse Perrier. We watched a delightful romantic comedy, Shades of Ray. We talked and talked and talked. We took photos on a Sunday scenic drive through rural Utah.

We reminisced. We napped. We sang duets in the car and attempted to harmonize. (We're not too bad on "Nothing Better" by The Postal Service, but "Under Pressure" could use some work. FYI: In this scenario, I'm Freddie Mercury and Trav is David Bowie.) We listed to "our song"—a song Travis included on a mix CD in 2002 that served as part of the soundtrack for us falling in love.

We felt very, very lucky.

Happy anniversary, sweetie.

Journaling Idea
During our many conversations, we posed several different questions to each other and discussed our answers:

• What memories stand out to you about our wedding?
• Looking back over the past 6 years, what has surprised you the most?
• What things have happened (or not happened) in the last 6 years that neither of us expected?
• What do you love most about our life right now?
• Would you still love me if a terrible accident deprived me of  my lower jaw? (Many different body parts can and have been substituted for the underlined bit. And in case you're wondering, there's only one acceptable answer to this question, and it is YES.)

Since many of our answers to these questions are too sappy or personal for public consumption (I'll spare you an eye roll or two), I recorded my answers in my Encyclopedia of Angie's Ordinary Life word document, filed under the heading "Sixth Anniversary." (My version is just an ongoing Word document saved on my computer, as described here, with various ruminations and memories organized alphabetically by topic.) Who knows? These memories just might make their way onto scrapbook pages.

A Memory That Came Out of Nowhere

It was 1991, and I was in Mrs. Springer's 9th-grade English class.

I adored Mrs. Springer. She was bold, funny, independent, and wise—and she once told my mother I was "brilliant," which you'll think was a very charitable thing for her to say after you hear the rest of this story. To this day, I can clearly recall her infectious laugh, her intense red hair, her flair for the dramatic, and the creepy stories she told us on Halloween after darkening the classroom windows with black butcher paper.

We had been given an assignment to write an essay or a book report, with instructions to use Roman numerals to designate each section of the report. Over the course of the year, I remember writing about Shane, Oliver Twist, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Pride & Prejudice, and a biography of "Nazi hunter" Simon Weisenthal—but this report could have been about any or none of them. (Actually I know it wasn't about Oliver Twist, because that assignment was an oral report, which my friends and I turned into an embarrassing white-girl rap: "Oliver, Oliver Twist. Do the O-O-Oliver Twist!")

In any case, after struggling to format the assignment according to her instructions (using my family's rudimentary word-processor) and finally giving up, I handed in my finished report and said, "I'm sorry. I just used regular numbers to mark my sections. I couldn't find the Roman numerals on the keyboard I have at home."

Miraculously, Mrs. Springer did NOT laugh. She didn't even chuckle. She just smiled, nodded, and accepted my report. Her face didn't betray even a hint of mockery—a true testament to her acting skills. Bless Mrs. Springer; I don't think I could have done it!

It was only later, on my own, that I realized my humiliating error. And just look at me now:

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX - XXI - XXII - XXIII - XXIV -XXV - XXVI - XXVII - XXVII - XXIX - XXX

So, tell me: are you inspired to write about a similar event from your past? In your journal or on a scrapbook page, share your thoughts about a teacher whose influence you still feel today. Or write about something embarrassing you said or did in junior high school. Or collect a list of things you should have known by a certain age but somehow didn't—like the fact that pickles were once cucumbers, or that islands don't float, or that chicken-fried steak isn't chicken.

Or you can just enjoy a little laugh at my expense and go on about your day.

Hopes and Fears

Wow, what an unexpectedly inspiring round of comments I got back from each of you! I realized something important as I was reading through your responses: each of them is a perfect little gem; a tiny essay that encapsulates so much of who you are and what matters most to you right at this moment. That kind of knowledge is a beautiful thing.

Who knew that you fears would say so much about us? And it occurs to me now that our greatest fears are often the exact opposite of our greatest hopes. You accomplish the same goal by identifying one or the other.

Every single one of you who commented could take the statement you wrote and expand on it in your journal or on a scrapbook page. This is different from a resolution or a goal, because admitting our hopes and our fears acknowledges our lack of control over the outer world. We all do our best to make sense of the incoming and the outgoing and to respond to new challenges and opportunities with our best efforts—but our responses are often the only power we have.

We can't control other people; we can't control the weather; we can't control the economy or world governments; we can't control the earth's fault lines. But we can respond with courage and integrity and purpose and authenticity—we can be present in our lives and reach out when we can.

Here are some of your hopes and fears:

Lee said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that we manage to survive one more year with everyone in the house talking. Slowly we are being overrun by teens and pre-teens and I hope they continue to be open, honest and engaging. My greatest fear is that they don't." 

Leah said, "My greatest hope this year is that I get accepted to do my Masters and my greatest fear is that I get accepted to do my Masters."

Marty said, "My greatest hope is that my adopted kids continue to heal from their traumas."
(That sentence both breaks my heart and revives my faith in humanity. Thank you Marty for giving those kids a chance.)

Anne said, "I hope that my new baby granddaughter arrives safely and that she's healthy and gorgeous!"

Chris said, "My greatest hope is selfish. I want a happy, healthy family. In 14 1/2 months I lost my sister in a car accident, my mother fell and died 3 months later from complications, and my 47-year-old husband had a stroke. Rough times and I am hoping and praying for better days ahead."
(This doesn't sound one bit selfish to me. My heart goes out to you, Chris.)

Mellisa said, "My greatest HOPE is that I will become pregnant again. My greatest FEAR is that it will end in yet another loss."

Katie said, "My greatest hope for this year is a calmer, happier me. And my greatest fear is losing a close friend of mine who is fighting breast cancer."

Kelli said, "My greatest fear is that my husband who has been traveling A LOT over the last several years will have the opportunity to be home more with us on a daily basis. That being said, my biggest fear is that my husband will be home with us on daily basis... ;)"
(Everything is a mixed blessing, isn't it???)

Jennifer said, "My greatest hope is for the safe return of all our soldiers and for everyone to be at a good place in their own lives."

Rebecca said, "My greatest hope is to find a job, a new home to live in with my family. My greatest fear we don't get a job and will be forced to move in with parents. (11 months of unemployment is really old!)"

Betty said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that this will be the year my 7 yr old son finally speaks so my loving DH can hear the word Daddy for the first time..."

Katherine said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that the drought is over and we have a successful crop in each field and that the Cotton Gin has more than enough business to make up for the past 3 years of extremely severe drought."

Migdalis said, "My greatest hope for this year is to keep walking even if the world around me is falling apart!!!"

Jodee said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that my hubby realizes his potential and starts his own business. He is kind of hesitant right now."

Margie said, "My greatest hope for 2010 is that I feel more peace than fear. And that I remember my blessings in this moment. It sounds cliche, but it's cliche for a reason! And I have to add that I hope the same for others, especially those with extreme difficulty these days. We've all been there and I hope they find relief & peace sooner than later."

Doesn't this list give you an amazing perspective on your own life and on other people's challenges and blessings?

I am very touched. Thank you, everyone.

p.s. This feels a bit anticlimactic now, but Random.org gave the random number 77, which came from Laura. I'll email the winner her prize!

Stampin' Up! Should Hire More Swedes

I just finished reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, and the title of this post is just one of the many startling conclusions I reached on my journey through the book.

Let me explain.

Last February, when I was toying with the idea of finding another full-time job, I saw an open position at Stampin' Up! that I briefly considered applying for. But one phrase in the job description made it clear this job was NOT for me. 

The phrase was: "must have a high tolerance for ambiguity."

If I know anything about myself, it's that I have a very low tolerance for ambiguity, which is one of the reasons I have not yet cultivated a deep appreciation for modern poetry.

I spend 83% of my time in the act of clarification. I'm either:

• clarifying what I just said
• repeating myself but in a slightly different form (or sometimes just louder) so there's no chance of misinterpretation
• fretting that I may recently have been misunderstood
• asking questions to make sure I understand precisely what you just said
• rewriting and re-punctuating sentences so there's no possible way they could be misread
• explaining to other people that my husband was only kidding just in case the nuances of his humor escape them

My husband, Travis, who's comfortable floating in a constant sea of ambiguity, occasionally finds it exhausting to speak to me. "How is it possible that you're unclear about what I just said?" he'll say. I just shrug. "Well, I just want to make sure we're on the same page." (But that's not precisely true, I don't just want to be on the same page with people, I want to be on the same word, or letter if possible.)

Trav is perfectly fine expressing himself in the general neighborhood of what he means. He thinks the "gist" of things is generally sufficient. Not I. I am rarely satisfied with a mere gist.

This brings me to the Swedes.

In Gladwell's book, in a chapter titled, "The Ethnic Theory of Plane Crashes," he talks about how different cultures are more prone to "tolerating ambiguity" while others practice "uncertainty avoidance." There's even a country-by-country database that ranks countries on the scale.

The biggest "uncertainty avoiders" are:
Greece
Portugal
Guatemala
Uruguay
Belgium
Angie Lucas

Those most tolerant of ambiguity include:
Hong Kong
Sweden
Denmark
Jamaica
Singapore
Travis Lucas

So, Stampin' Up! if you haven't filled that position yet, you might consider doing a bit of cultural profiling.

Another interesting tidbit I picked up from my friend* Malcolm:
In general, Western communication is "transmitter oriented." In other words, it is considered the responsibility of the speaker to communicate ideas clearly. Hey, I'm just taking my responsibilities very seriously.

In many Eastern countries, however, communication is "receiver oriented." It's up to the listener to make sense of being said. In an environment like this, I would be sure to drive everyone crazy, including myself.

* I'm taking liberties with the term "friend" because I actually e-mailed him once, and he actually responded. And then I made a layout about it.

I have a lot more thoughts about this book, and others I've read recently, and I think I may post some actual book reviews, rather than just random reflections and connections like this one. So stay tuned.

Incidentally, this is one of the things I love most about reading. It opens up my mind and helps me discover new ways of thinking about myself and the world. These "ambiguity avoidance" epiphanies are the kind of thing I save in my Encylopedia of Angie Lucas's Ordinary Life journal, which I started years ago after reading the memoir by Amy Krause Rosenthal. My version is just an ongoing Word document saved on my computer, with various ruminations and memories organized alphabetically by topic. I filed select portions of this post under "ambiguity."

Have you made any discoveries about yourself lately? Make sure you're saving them somewhere.