As you know, I have started a business offering my services as an editor and writer. I have always enjoyed writing, and get a particular thrill out of helping clients find their voice. But this is truly diffrent than going to work for an existing organization. Rather than walking into a pre-made structure, I define my structure. Most important, though, is that I assign a value to my work, as opposed to someone else telling me how much I will be paid.
It takes a courage to lay it on the line and tell someone, in the first place, that your knowledge and skill have worth. Of course, your first target audience is yourself. If you don't believe that your time and effort have value, how can you possibly ask someone else to pay you for your work? To me, assigning a dollar amount to my talent affirms that I value myself and my intellect. Not that I have conducted a study, but I suspect that women are particularly prone to devaluing themselves. Think of the old Loreal advertisement, where the woman using the product says "because I'm worth it." Interesting. In our society, a woman's worth is measured by what she spends, not by what she earns.
I have encountered other women starting businesses who diminish themselves by saying that their intent is not to make money. In reality, they are afraid to be assertive. When I hear a woman say that making money isn't her driving intent, it makes me want to get up on a pulpit like Jesse Jackson, and shout "No, no, no! Repeat after me, I AM somebody!" Assigning value to your talent and abilities is an important lessons in self-esteem (see my previous post). Recently, I told someone about my venture and a bid I had put on a job. She was astonished by the proposed price. I was equally confident that the price for my work was justified. I know that I can do something that is unique. I hope you believe in your talents, too.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
From self-doubt to self-confidence
Have you ever met someone who has no doubt that they are entitled to attaining their dreams - that that they deserve success on their terms? At the Womensphere Global Summit in Manhattan on October 24, 2009, I heard one such woman, Suzy Welch, speak. Ms. Welch is an author and former editor of the Harvard Business Review. Clearly, the key to Ms. Welch's success was absolute confidence. She seems to attack any objective - whether it be financial success or renown - with conviction. Her apparent and unapologetic sense of entitlement isn't a negative. Rather, it is an admirable trait.
I will never forget Michael Jordan's appearance in a 'Stuart Smalley' skit with Al Franken on Saturday Night Live long ago. Franken's character, Stuart Smalley, was a self-help television host, whose practice it was to look at himself in the mirror and utter the mantra "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and, doggonit, people like me!" It was comical to watch Franken's character assure Micheal Jordan that pre-game jitters are normal. Smalley views the world through a warped lens and assumes that everyone suffers from self-doubt. Yet, Michael Jordan shows the audience quiet, unwavering confidence. Honestly, there are times when I have felt much more like Stuart Smalley than like either Michael Jordan or Suzy Welch - in terms of self-esteem, that is.
Low-self esteem is the polar opposite of Ms. Welch's sense of entitlement or Michael Jordan's self asured demeanor. It is an insidious disease that can paralyze and prevent progress. And even if you manage to attain some sort of success, that little bit of self doubt can nag and undermine. How can you clear the low self-esteem cob webs? Accepting that you have an issue is a good first step. Review your positive traits and acheivements. Remember that there is nothing wrong with feeling pride in anything and everything you have done. Then, look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and, doggonit, people like me!" It's okay; I won't tell anyone if you don't.
I will never forget Michael Jordan's appearance in a 'Stuart Smalley' skit with Al Franken on Saturday Night Live long ago. Franken's character, Stuart Smalley, was a self-help television host, whose practice it was to look at himself in the mirror and utter the mantra "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and, doggonit, people like me!" It was comical to watch Franken's character assure Micheal Jordan that pre-game jitters are normal. Smalley views the world through a warped lens and assumes that everyone suffers from self-doubt. Yet, Michael Jordan shows the audience quiet, unwavering confidence. Honestly, there are times when I have felt much more like Stuart Smalley than like either Michael Jordan or Suzy Welch - in terms of self-esteem, that is.
Low-self esteem is the polar opposite of Ms. Welch's sense of entitlement or Michael Jordan's self asured demeanor. It is an insidious disease that can paralyze and prevent progress. And even if you manage to attain some sort of success, that little bit of self doubt can nag and undermine. How can you clear the low self-esteem cob webs? Accepting that you have an issue is a good first step. Review your positive traits and acheivements. Remember that there is nothing wrong with feeling pride in anything and everything you have done. Then, look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and, doggonit, people like me!" It's okay; I won't tell anyone if you don't.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Just Do It
Dayniah Manderson was profiled in an article in the New York Times Metropolitan section on Sunday, May 2, 2010. Ms. Manderson has suffered from spinal muscular atrophy type II since childhood. She has endured surgeries and is confined to a wheelchair. However, Ms. Manderson has a daughter and a job. She also had an abusive relationship, but she certainly isn't putting up with that. The article in the Times was well-deserved acknowledgement of this remarkable human being.
The way we manage our limitations is significant. I don't like it when my limitations interfere with my ability to work and play. After a while, I feel like complaining. But I know that I experience periods of relief, while others never will. The New York Times article discussed modifications Ms. Manderson makes to facilitate her work day. Specifically, she doesn't eat breakfast or drink all day because she is unable to go to the bathroom on her own. She didn't complain. She didn't indicate that she felt sorry for herself. The situation is what it is. I certainly hope that the article results in additional help for Ms. Manderson.
The way we manage our limitations is significant. I don't like it when my limitations interfere with my ability to work and play. After a while, I feel like complaining. But I know that I experience periods of relief, while others never will. The New York Times article discussed modifications Ms. Manderson makes to facilitate her work day. Specifically, she doesn't eat breakfast or drink all day because she is unable to go to the bathroom on her own. She didn't complain. She didn't indicate that she felt sorry for herself. The situation is what it is. I certainly hope that the article results in additional help for Ms. Manderson.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Ode to a war horse MDX
Our weekend started at 6 a.m. on Saturday, when we drove from Long Island to Choate Rosemary Hall, which is near New Haven. Choate is one of America's premier boarding high schools. Its girls ice hockey program has produced four olympians and our daughter was interviewing for a slot at the school. She was well received and blended beautifully with the other students. We spent about 3 hours at the school, and that was followed by a game between my daughter's team and the Connecticut Polar Bears. Choate's coach came to watch Laura and some other players. Again, we were really happy with the coach's comments about our daughter's ability.
Our other daughter, Allison, attends school on the other side of Connecticut at the Kent School which is in, well, Kent. The town shuts down by 9, basically. After an amazing dinner at Blu Grill, we went to the only convenience store that was open. Laura was recovering from a nasty cold and needed lozenges and tissues. My husband brought the car over to the store lot and parked. Laura and I got in the car and we were about to head back to our inn outside of town. Joe backed the car out of its spot, then put the car into drive. The engine was running, but the gear didn't engage and the car just sat there. It was close to closing time, so a state trooper was in the lot to watch over the store - not that there is ever any trouble in Kent. I walked over to the squad car. "Why didn't your husband just drive you over," he quipped, at which point I explained our predicament.
The officer, the store owner and Joe investigated. They found a pool of liquid where the car had been parked and noticed that the car was hemorraging greenish blue liquid. Using a flashlight, they looked inside the hood. Together, they concluded that the transmission had failed. Now, I am not particularly knowledgeable about cars, but I do know that the transmission is the rough equivalent of the human heart; once it isn't working, the vehicle or person basically has no chance for survival. Suffice it to say that we ended up getting a rental car and completed the trip with a visit to Joe's sister in Boston and two more boarding schools - all of which was very exciting - but this is about the car.
The MDX - our MDX - was not merely a form of transportation. We bought the car in 2004. At that point, we had transferred the girls into East Woods School in Oyster Bay Cove. We were attracted to their strong academic program, emphasis on character development and an ice hockey program in which Laura could participate starting in 5th grade. Her improvement warranted branching out even further, so Laura joined The Long Island Waves, a travel team, in 6th grade, in addition to her participation on the East Woods team. This is her third year with that team. Participation in that team involved remarkable feats of transportation.
The MDX has been there every step of the way. It has transported us from points north in Connecticut to Yorktown, Pennsylvania, as well as tournaments in places you have heard of, like Rochester and Syracuse and places you haven't heard of, like Chazy, New York. It has ferried us to visit boarding schools throughout the northeast, and it has permitted us to meet dedicated educators and coaches. The MDX took Allison to Kent School, where she has been afforded unique opportunities to grow and develop - and home again. Then there were the trips up to New England Music Camp in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. There, our daughters' relationships with both peers and teachers were cultivated and their abilities as musicians enhanced through instruction and weekly performances.
As parents, my husband and I view our job as providing the best resources to enable our daughters to accomplish. The MDX was part of that effort, plus it had more than 130,000 miles. It turns out that all the MDX needed was a new radiator. Despite its new lease on life, it is time to put the old war horse out to pasture. No one achieves success alone. It is important to thank those who have helped you accomplish your goals. Dear old MDX, you helped us do our job as parents. As cars go, you were amazing.
Our other daughter, Allison, attends school on the other side of Connecticut at the Kent School which is in, well, Kent. The town shuts down by 9, basically. After an amazing dinner at Blu Grill, we went to the only convenience store that was open. Laura was recovering from a nasty cold and needed lozenges and tissues. My husband brought the car over to the store lot and parked. Laura and I got in the car and we were about to head back to our inn outside of town. Joe backed the car out of its spot, then put the car into drive. The engine was running, but the gear didn't engage and the car just sat there. It was close to closing time, so a state trooper was in the lot to watch over the store - not that there is ever any trouble in Kent. I walked over to the squad car. "Why didn't your husband just drive you over," he quipped, at which point I explained our predicament.
The officer, the store owner and Joe investigated. They found a pool of liquid where the car had been parked and noticed that the car was hemorraging greenish blue liquid. Using a flashlight, they looked inside the hood. Together, they concluded that the transmission had failed. Now, I am not particularly knowledgeable about cars, but I do know that the transmission is the rough equivalent of the human heart; once it isn't working, the vehicle or person basically has no chance for survival. Suffice it to say that we ended up getting a rental car and completed the trip with a visit to Joe's sister in Boston and two more boarding schools - all of which was very exciting - but this is about the car.
The MDX - our MDX - was not merely a form of transportation. We bought the car in 2004. At that point, we had transferred the girls into East Woods School in Oyster Bay Cove. We were attracted to their strong academic program, emphasis on character development and an ice hockey program in which Laura could participate starting in 5th grade. Her improvement warranted branching out even further, so Laura joined The Long Island Waves, a travel team, in 6th grade, in addition to her participation on the East Woods team. This is her third year with that team. Participation in that team involved remarkable feats of transportation.
The MDX has been there every step of the way. It has transported us from points north in Connecticut to Yorktown, Pennsylvania, as well as tournaments in places you have heard of, like Rochester and Syracuse and places you haven't heard of, like Chazy, New York. It has ferried us to visit boarding schools throughout the northeast, and it has permitted us to meet dedicated educators and coaches. The MDX took Allison to Kent School, where she has been afforded unique opportunities to grow and develop - and home again. Then there were the trips up to New England Music Camp in Belgrade Lakes, Maine. There, our daughters' relationships with both peers and teachers were cultivated and their abilities as musicians enhanced through instruction and weekly performances.
As parents, my husband and I view our job as providing the best resources to enable our daughters to accomplish. The MDX was part of that effort, plus it had more than 130,000 miles. It turns out that all the MDX needed was a new radiator. Despite its new lease on life, it is time to put the old war horse out to pasture. No one achieves success alone. It is important to thank those who have helped you accomplish your goals. Dear old MDX, you helped us do our job as parents. As cars go, you were amazing.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Inspiration
Thomas Alva Edison said that "success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration." Clearly, that was a shorthand quip and the 10% shouldn't be given such short shrift.
This past weekend, my daughter, Laura, and I went to a showcase for ice hockey players. At this event, the players had the opportunity to be seen by prep school coaches and to speak with the coaches about their schools. My daughter shyly approached a coach whose school had denied Laura admission last year. They exchanged greetings, briefly mentioned the rejection, and proceeded to discuss the other events of Laura's year. Laura was not this man's student, nor was she one of his players. Nevertheless, this consummate educator kindly and gently offered suggestions about interview skills and also advised her on puck handling.
I must point out my admiration, as well, for my daughter. The students were encouraged to ask the coaches for feedback about the student's potential. Laura asked the coaches from three highly competitive schools to offer their opinion about her ability to play at the varsity level. That took guts. We drove like bats out of hell from Maine to New York yesterday and pulled into the ice rink with 20 minutes to spare before practice. She certainly perspired, but she came of the ice talking about how she was inspired by the level of play up at the showcase.
This past weekend, my daughter, Laura, and I went to a showcase for ice hockey players. At this event, the players had the opportunity to be seen by prep school coaches and to speak with the coaches about their schools. My daughter shyly approached a coach whose school had denied Laura admission last year. They exchanged greetings, briefly mentioned the rejection, and proceeded to discuss the other events of Laura's year. Laura was not this man's student, nor was she one of his players. Nevertheless, this consummate educator kindly and gently offered suggestions about interview skills and also advised her on puck handling.
I must point out my admiration, as well, for my daughter. The students were encouraged to ask the coaches for feedback about the student's potential. Laura asked the coaches from three highly competitive schools to offer their opinion about her ability to play at the varsity level. That took guts. We drove like bats out of hell from Maine to New York yesterday and pulled into the ice rink with 20 minutes to spare before practice. She certainly perspired, but she came of the ice talking about how she was inspired by the level of play up at the showcase.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Gardens growing quite contrarily
I am a total Zsa Zsa in a garden; hopeless. What was I thinking when I pIanted all that broccoli and arugula this year? Okay, I actually only put in a few of the plants; my gardener took pity on the plants and put the rest in for me. I envisioned fresh broccoli, crisp lettuce, delectable tomatoes, long, luscious carrots. I made plans and Mother nature laughed so hard that we got boat loads of rain.
The plants either drowned or went to seed. The carrots started to go to seed in late June, so we- okay, Joe - pulled them out. Though short and stumpy, the carrots were actually quite sweet and delicious. The handful of peas were good too, but that poor plant was drowned. Despite valiant attempts to cut them back, I am sorry to report that neither the arugula nor the broccoli survived. Ever the optimist, I am keeping the celery in; celery root is great to use in soup stock. The tomato plants are pregnant with green orbs that are taking forever to ripen.
My failed experiment hardly reflects my abilities as a gardener. Farmers I met at my favorite markets told me to pull out plants out that had gone to seed. I may not have had a successful garden, but at least it wasn't my livelihood. Rottkamps, in Glen Head, lost an entire cabbage crop and I haven't seen any broccoli there at all. Their corn is beyond fantastic, though. Vegetable offerings at the Huntington Farmers' market on Sunday mornings are also limited. We are fortunate to have alternative food sources, but it makes you think of the many places where local is the only resource.
The plants either drowned or went to seed. The carrots started to go to seed in late June, so we- okay, Joe - pulled them out. Though short and stumpy, the carrots were actually quite sweet and delicious. The handful of peas were good too, but that poor plant was drowned. Despite valiant attempts to cut them back, I am sorry to report that neither the arugula nor the broccoli survived. Ever the optimist, I am keeping the celery in; celery root is great to use in soup stock. The tomato plants are pregnant with green orbs that are taking forever to ripen.
My failed experiment hardly reflects my abilities as a gardener. Farmers I met at my favorite markets told me to pull out plants out that had gone to seed. I may not have had a successful garden, but at least it wasn't my livelihood. Rottkamps, in Glen Head, lost an entire cabbage crop and I haven't seen any broccoli there at all. Their corn is beyond fantastic, though. Vegetable offerings at the Huntington Farmers' market on Sunday mornings are also limited. We are fortunate to have alternative food sources, but it makes you think of the many places where local is the only resource.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Summertime
This July was dedicated to my "get a life" initiative, which involved taking advantage of cultural offerings in nearby New York City and traveling. I know, I travel enough - but this had to be travel that was not associated with ice hockey or music camp.
So, Joe and I went to Chicago. We visited the Chicago Art Institute, strolled through Grant Park, took an architectural boat tour and attended a Chicago Symphony Orchestra concert at Ravinia. We also enjoyed breakfast, our favorite meal and, apparently, a passion of Chicago residents. The city has done a wonderful job bringing art and nature into the street-scape. I could easily have spent a few days wandering through The Chicago Art Institute and the architecture tour made me more aware to my surroundings in Manhattan. The proportion of Chicago is very different from New York; everything was BIG. I returned home refreshed and enriched.
Consistent with my self-imposed initiative, Joe and I attended frequented theater. Finally, I, too, have seen "Wicked!" We saw "God of Carnage," "Billy Elliot" and "South Pacific." Tomorrow I am going to see "In the Heights." I particularly noticed the work of those who do not appear on stage; casting directors, the lighting designers, set designers and pit orchestra musicians. "Billy Elliot" was the standout. Casting "Billy Elliot" must have been a challenge. The actors had to look like miners and, at first glance, they definitely didn't appear to be capable of graceful movement. Wrong. The guy with the pot belly was the most coordinated of all.
Well, ice hockey season is gearing up again. Off I go to be a supportive ice hockey mom. I wouldn't have it any other way; I have the greatest life.
So, Joe and I went to Chicago. We visited the Chicago Art Institute, strolled through Grant Park, took an architectural boat tour and attended a Chicago Symphony Orchestra concert at Ravinia. We also enjoyed breakfast, our favorite meal and, apparently, a passion of Chicago residents. The city has done a wonderful job bringing art and nature into the street-scape. I could easily have spent a few days wandering through The Chicago Art Institute and the architecture tour made me more aware to my surroundings in Manhattan. The proportion of Chicago is very different from New York; everything was BIG. I returned home refreshed and enriched.
Consistent with my self-imposed initiative, Joe and I attended frequented theater. Finally, I, too, have seen "Wicked!" We saw "God of Carnage," "Billy Elliot" and "South Pacific." Tomorrow I am going to see "In the Heights." I particularly noticed the work of those who do not appear on stage; casting directors, the lighting designers, set designers and pit orchestra musicians. "Billy Elliot" was the standout. Casting "Billy Elliot" must have been a challenge. The actors had to look like miners and, at first glance, they definitely didn't appear to be capable of graceful movement. Wrong. The guy with the pot belly was the most coordinated of all.
Well, ice hockey season is gearing up again. Off I go to be a supportive ice hockey mom. I wouldn't have it any other way; I have the greatest life.
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