Archives for July 2012

Back in late 2010, I decided I’d dip my little pinky toe into social media. I’d been reading about Twitter and blogging for about two years at that point and our clients were starting to ask questions. I wanted to be able to answer any questions regarding social media with experience rather than conjecture, so I jumped in. I started with a Twitter account called Clayad and a blog called Ladybug Notes.

From the start, I was clear in my head that I was doing all of this for our company – Clayman Advertising, but my actions got ahead of my head. I didn’t come to Twitter with a clear follow strategy, for example. I participated in chats that were great and I met a lot of people – many of them other marketers. My blog posts have ranged from politics to marketing to personal and everything in between.

And I’ll admit, I fell into the social media trap. The sparkle of being on lists caught me pretty early on, for example. As my number of Twitter followers climbed past 100, then further, I started to think, “Hmm, well this is kind of unexpected and nice.” I started to do things that were much more about building me up versus learning on behalf of our clients or building our own company up. It’s an easy mistake to make, I think. It’s also, I hope, somewhat easy to remedy.

This is not to say I have any regrets. Had I not done things the way I did, I’d be short many great friends I have met over the last few years – and I intend to cling to you like jelly clings to peanut butter. But my social media presence must shift away from me and back to where it should have been all along.

To that end, I’m going to be putting this blog on hiatus for now. I don’t intend on destroying it, even if I don’t write here for a year. I have put too much work into this baby to just delete it! And I may come back from time to time. But for now, it doesn’t fit with what I need to do and where I need to spend my time.

If you are interested in keeping in touch, I’ll be writing at our agency blog – here – three times a week. I’ll be writing three times a month for Razoo about social good. I’ll be writing once a month over at Carol Roth’s blog. I’m also going to be trying to beef up my Linkedin presence here and of course you can find me on Twitter here. We also have an agency Facebook page where we can chat about various and sundry things – you can find that here.

If you’re not interested in following me to any of those places, then I wish you well. I’m sure we’ll meet again. For all of its appearances, the world, offline and online, is actually quite small.

Thanks for stopping by – I’ll see ya on the flip side.

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/peterkaminski/5122382/ via Creative Commons

So I’ve been thinking about this ever since Geoff Livingston published his list of 101 things he wants to do before he dies. Then Jayme Soulati published a list of 20 things and Gini Dietrich published a list of 10. Well, I’m somewhere in the middle – sort of. I thought I’d come up with a list of 100. So here we go.

1. Get a puppy (hypo-allergenic please)

2. Get a house (hypo-allergenic please)

3. See London

4. See Paris

5. See Rome

6. Tour Italy in general – I’d love to see Florence, Venice..all of those ancient cities

7. See Eddie Izzard live – before he gets too old or senile

8. See Louis CK live – my brother has done this 4 times now I think. I should get one roll, right?

9. See Neil Young live

10. See Elvis Costello live

11. Run a marathon (even still)

12. Adopt a kid or 3

13. Learn French

14. Brush up on my Spanish

15. Learn some new language – Chinese maybe

16. Attend a rally of great magnitude for a cause in which I believe

17. Start an NPO

18. Learn how to quilt

19. Write a book about something historical

20. Travel the Lewis & Clark trail

21. Visit the Shiloh Battlefield

22. Meet you in person if I haven’t already

23. See a Broadway show

24. Start my stand-up comedian career (I have the name already – Yes I’m Really Standing)

25. Tour Scandinavia

26. Take a cruise – just so I can say I did. A trip around the Bahamas would be ok.

27. Visit New Zealand and take a hobbit tour

28. Visit Australia – as much of it as possible

29. Tour Scotland

30. Try to find my ancestral home in Ireland

31. Try to find my ancestors in Russia

32. Buy a whole new wardrobe

33. Knit a sweater (so scary)

34. Speak at a conference that is big and illustrious

35. Meet Johnny Depp

36. Meet Paul Rudd

37. Go to California, specifically San Francisco

38. See the Grand Canyon

39. Visit the Black Hills

40. Try to track down my Cherokee ancestors

41. Visit Savannah, Georgia

42. Get a seaside condo – somewhere. And post as many pictures as I can

43. Learn how to cook lamb chops – really. This intimidates the heck out of me

44. Learn how to make sushi (see above)

45. Achieve my goal weight of 80 pounds (hopefully this happens long before I cease to exist. I’d like to enjoy it.

46. Swim in the Mediterranean

47. Swim in the Caribbean

48. Learn how to use a sewing machine without breaking it (major hurdle)

49. Visit the Alamo

50. Visit New York City – the outskirts mainly

51. Visit Montreal (so close and yet so far)

52. Visit Kauai

53. Hike part of the Appalachian Trail

54. Camp on a Civil War battlefield

55. Watch a Civil War reenactment (hi – dork)

56. Get an article published based on my Master’s thesis – I still believe in Phillis Wheatley

57. Earn my doctorate in history

58. Earn an MBA

59. Boost our company into worldwide reknown

60. Get a tattoo – not sure of what or where

61. Become an efficient bicyclist

62. Watch Wimbledon live and in person

63. Find my second grade love and reconnect

64. Go on an African safari (Before the animals all are gone)

65. Visit the rainforest

66. See the remains of the Incas in Peru

67. Do a Yoga handstand thingy – (one could add – learn the name of it)

68. Visit Mozart in Austria

69. Tour the Vatican

70. Tour Israel (if things ever calm down there)

71. See Mozart’s Requiem performed live

72. Sing in a choir that does gospel music

73. Go to the Rhinebeck Yarn & Fiber festival

74. Learn how to spin yarn properly

75. Grow my own food (Plant matter – not sure I could kill and prep an animal. I know my limits)

76. Learn how to make bread

77. Make a great big Thanksgiving turkey dinner rivaling my mom & grandma

78. Learn how to make pies

79. See a concert at Carnegie Hall

80. Visit the Holocaust Museum in DC – it will be difficult but it must be done

81. See Ground Zero in NYC – see above

82. See the Jon Stewart & Steve Colbert shows live

83. Have a giant party where I get to enjoy as many of my friends and family as possible

84. Find that super special dude who wants to put up with me for the rest of his life

85. Visit Spain – Barcelona, Madrid, Salamanca

86. Visit Anne Frank’s House and the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam

87. See Hamburg and Berlin

88. Go on a huge canoe trip (hopefully someone else wants to do most of the rowing)

89. Visit Seattle

90. Make a life-changing impact for the better on a person

91. Travel with Doctors Without Borders to help in a catastrophe

92. Encourage other women to join the business world

93. Travel cross-country on a train

94. See the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum in Missouri (I think)

95. Visit Monticello

96. See Oxford and Cambridge for myself

97. Tour Athens

98. Read all of Shelby Foote’s books

99. Guest teach a class or five

100. Help someone else’s big wish come true

Now it’s your turn 🙂

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/davekentuk/3467892348/ via Creative Commons

Have you ever watched Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth before? It’s the one starring David Bowie wearing pants that are distractingly too tight. And white. Ehem. Anyway…throughout the movie, a very young, very whiny Jennifer Connelly repeats the phrase, “It’s not fair!” Towards the end of the movie, David Bowie, the goblin king Jareth, retorts, “You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is.”

We are often admonished not to compare ourselves to other people. We’re all on our own journey, etc etc. But sometimes I think comparisons can be helpful and even healthy, at least in terms of keeping things in perspective. You might not feel it’s fair that you have a job that you don’t like, but then there are folks who would gladly do any job just to get some security for their families. In turn, there are people who look at what those people have and they might think, “It’s not fair I live in a place where I’m not allowed to work.” Someone who is facing a terrible illness may look at all of you and say, “Gee, at least you all have your health.”

Everything is relative.

This is not to say that we shouldn’t feel mad or sad on occasion. Sometimes things happen that really do seem unfair. Whether they are fair or unfair from the perspective of other people hardly matters. And anyway, we have only the cards we’re dealt. We can’t worry about every other person on the planet every day. I get that.

However, I would posit that some of us, like Sarah from The Labyrinth, call “unfair” more often than perhaps we should. If you hear those words coming out of your mouth or coming into your head on a regular basis, infuse a little Jareth into your sub-conscience. Er, in a healthy way, of course. Ask yourself what your basis for comparison is. Is your situation unfair compared to someone you don’t really know? Well, you might not know the whole story there. Is your story unfair compared to that person you just passed on the street? Maybe not.

Truthfully, I don’t really believe in “fair” and “unfair” unless a person acts as the murderer did in Colorado. When your life is impacted by the random and cruel behavior of others, that’s not fair. But generally speaking, fair and unfair is about perspective. I think “fair” comes form a feeling of entitlement. Sarah felt entitled to make it through the labyrinth quickly and easily and when obstacles stood in her way, she cried foul. When we don’t get what we want, we similarly pout. That doesn’t really do much though. Whether it’s fair or not, it is what it is. Giving it a name will not change it. A rose by any other name…

So don’t worry about fair or unfair. Worry about what you can do to improve things you don’t like. Work hard. I think that’s fair. Don’t you?

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sylvrilyn/2559737916/ via Creative Commons

This past Saturday night, my family and I watched the American Classics special on Johnny Carson. It was a pretty riveting tale. As it turns out, Carson was the ultimate clown with sadness to hide. For most of the documentary, Carson’s mother, Ruth, was pitted as the core of all of his problems. When he was a child, Ruth showed a visible preference for her daughter. As Carson achieved one amazing thing after another, his mother remained unmoved. In an interview with a magazine, after watching one of Johnny’s monologues, Ruth said, “That wasn’t funny,” then got up and left. When he won a major award for all of his achievements in television he called her and all she said was, “Well, I guess they know what they’re doing.” Biographers interviewed for the documentary said Johnny may have womanized because he was looking for some kind of female approval in the absence of his mother’s support.

Then, towards the end of the documentary, Ruth’s death was discussed. As her possessions were being sorted, a box was found that contained newspaper and magazine clippings dating all the way to the beginning of Johnny’s career. It was noted that Johnny kept that box for the rest of his life.

This story infuriated me. All that time, Ruth Carson couldn’t bring herself to offer any positive word to her son. She must have known how much he craved it. Forget about saying she was proud of him – she couldn’t even say congratulations. All that time, when a kind word from her would have meant so much, she held back.

Would Johnny Carson’s life have been totally different if he had gotten positive reinforcement from his mom? I kind of doubt it, but I bet he would have been at least a bit more content.

I think we often assume that people just know stuff. People KNOW we love them. People KNOW we think they did a great job. People KNOW that if we offer criticism it’s only for their own good. Right? I mean, you’ve gotta know I care. It’s obvious, isn’t it?

Here’s a challenge for you for today, and I want to hear how it goes. I want you to tell one person something you THINK they know but that you’ve never actually said to them. Have you admired the way they dress for a long time? Do you admire their smarts? Do you think they did a great job leading a project? Do you love them? Just go ahead and say it. If you’re so certain they know already, it can’t do any harm, right? On the other hand, if they might not know, you could make a huge difference in their day. Heck – you could make a huge difference in their life.

That’s worth a small verbalized statement, don’t you think?

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lovelornpoets/6214449310/ via Creative Commons

I admit, there is a problem that has haunted me my entire life. Well, ok, a few. But one in particular has been on my mind of late. I have always wanted to push myself, usually too hard, too fast, too much. When I was a kid and our driveway would be covered with snow, I’d drive my parents nuts because I’d always go grab for the biggest shovel we had. In school I wanted to get straight As, then I wanted to be valedictorian (mostly succeeded on the former, not on the latter).

My latest adventure, which you may have heard or read about if you hang around me much, is that I wanted to try to do a marathon. Twenty-six miles. I knew my time would stink. I knew it would probably be mostly walking, but I wanted to see if I could start at the starting line and end at the finish line while remaining alive. Bear in mind, I’ve never been an athlete before. I’ve been training since January, rather aggressively. Even as it became apparent that a half-marathon would still be a heckuva challenge, I kept working at it.

A few weeks ago, I started waking up with this pain in the arch of my left foot. It went away after a few minutes, so I didn’t think much about it. Then last week it didn’t go away all day, and by this weekend I could barely walk on my foot. I’m still limping around. The common response to this predicament has been almost unanimous. I pushed myself too hard. Trying to go from 0 to 26 in nine months is ridiculous. Had I done it, it would have been miraculous, of course. But having tried it, I have now taken many steps backwards.

Kind of silly, right? But I think we all do this in one way or another. Are you working 17 hours a day and sleeping 2 hours a day so that you can build your business? Are you trying to write a book in 3 months, sacrificing what used to be your exercise time or your relaxation time? Are you trying to get all of your speaking engagements done by such and such a date so you can do something else?

I bet you are. And my left foot would like to tell you that this is most decidedly not a good idea. Eventually, it catches up with you. It might not always be something as relatively benign as plantar fasciitis either. Check out this story from Tinu Abayomi-Paul, which I found thanks to Shelly Kramer and Allen Mireles. She pushed herself too hard and ended up with a serious case of pneumonia that landed her in the ICU.

You don’t want that, I’m fairly certain.

We all need to slow down and look at the big picture. Today, my advice is for myself as much as it is for you. Embrace the day, don’t race the day.

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wheatfields/3938695154/ via Creative Commons

One thing that Jamie Sams teaches (and I think a lot of other philosophers teach this as well) is that during our own particular journeys in life, we meet people as we’re supposed to meet them – as we need their help. They might not have any idea that they are helping us in that regard, and indeed, if the lesson we have to learn is unpleasant we might not think of it as very helpful either. But if you start thinking about it, we all seem to happen upon new friends or new enemies at just the right moment in life. Similarly, we weave in and out of other peoples’ lives to help them with their lessons. All we can do is hope that we serve everyone well. Since we don’t even know what it is we’re supposed to do, this can be a lot to live up to, but I think it’s possible.

Have I ever noticed that I met people when I was supposed to? Yes, actually. When I was going through the hardest time in my life, I was a bit loose-lipped about some of the health stuff I was enduring at the time. There was one friend in particular who I really felt deserved an explanation for my clearly crazy behavior, so I opted to write one of those confessional emails that you kind of wish you could pull back as soon as you hit send. A few hours later I checked my email and guess what? They had an almost identical issue. From that point until we sort of drifted away from each other, there was an unspoken undercurrent to our friendship. We didn’t have to talk about it or ask how the other was doing. It was just an understanding. At that time, when I felt quite isolated, that person helped fill a giant hole.

In the online world over just the last two years (how is that POSSIBLE?) I have met all kinds of people just at the right time. I learn from these people every day, it seems like, and I can only hope that I serve the same purpose for other people. I hope I can offer guidance by example like Gini Dietrich does for me. I hope I can offer good counsel like Sam Parrotto, Sherree Worrell,  and Jill Manty do. Folks like Geoff Livingston, Danny Brown, and Olivier Blanchard have shown me how to hold your own in the online world and be sure of yourself – most certainly needed that after my first year online. Ken Mueller , Jack Steiner and Bill Dorman have shown me how to mix great wisdom with great humor. Lily Zjac, Ellen Bremen, and Brian Vickery all helped me on my running journey just at the right time. And there are people who have taught me lessons the hard way too (oddly I’m not going to name them), but those lessons were valuable. Painful, but valuable. I might even say necessary.

I hope that I have come into your life at a good time if you read here regularly. I hope that you have met people who taught you happy lessons more often than you met people who taught you lessons the hard way. But I want you to give some thought to the people who are woven into your life. What lessons have they taught you? What might you have taught them?

It’s a good way to remember that we are all connected like puddles in a pond, for better or worse. What we do makes an impact. We can only choose to make that impact for good or for ill.

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/frikjan/6974032035/ via Creative Commons