Tomorrow is 2019. It was a great year; it was a hard year. Some things worked; somethings failed miserably. And there are some things that I wished I had done differently. These aren’t resolutions per se but they are things I’m hoping […]
Tomorrow is 2019.
It was a great year; it was a hard year. Some things worked; somethings failed miserably. And there are some things that I wished I had done differently. These aren’t resolutions per se but they are things I’m hoping to re-focus on:
1. Make monthly mix tapes (albeit playlists)
2. Maintain an environmentally sustainable diet
3. Read at least 10 books
4. Write at least 2 posts per month
5. Attend more small-venue local music shows
6. Simplify – learn to say NO more
7. Sleep more – at least 7 hours a night
8. Get a 4th bedroom
9. Spend more time in the White Mountains
10. Always be grateful for the big white tent
2019 will be focussed on family, re-connecting with people and passions, introspection and generally, just slowing down.
‘Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.’
Happy New Year.
It’s now mid-August and the nights have turned cooler; many of the leaves have turned a darker shade of green and have a more rugged and coarse texture. I don’t seem to have to cut the lawn as much and the chipmunks […]
It’s now mid-August and the nights have turned cooler; many of the leaves have turned a darker shade of green and have a more rugged and coarse texture. I don’t seem to have to cut the lawn as much and the chipmunks and squirrels seem to be less active. Vacations are winding down as we approach Labor Day weekend and parents, like myself, have started to complain about our kids going back before the holiday. Just seems wrong I guess but I get it.
We bought the kids new backpacks yesterday, lunch bags, and of course the shiny new sneakers that they can’t wear before the first day of school. I’m not really sure why that’s a rule but it’s one of those things that I got stuck with as a kid so it’s been arbitrarily handed down to my kids. They hate it as much as I did. I’m sure their kids will also beg unsuccessfully to wear their new kicks before Labor Day.
Maybe I’ll be one of those progressive parents and give in.
I’m thinking about it.
The routine of a deliciously unstructured and chaotic summer is in full swing, but as that calendar flips and we see the impending “S” month on the horizon, we dread the transition back to school.
I guess I should be clear here. I’m not suggesting that I don’t want my kids to go back to school and be subjected to a regimented schedule dictated by the school calendar.
Not at all.
In fact, I excitedly anticipate and welcome that moment with an adult iced concoction, the pool to myself, and either a great new book or more typically a flashing curser on my laptop waiting for me to assemble certain letters in a specific order that when read back, makes you feel something. Anything.
It’s a tall order. Futile some may suggest.
The truth is, I look forward to the routine of school. Some kids don’t need it, others do. Mine fall into the latter category. 2/3 of my children find salvation and comfort in that routine and when it’s not there, they struggle immensely. They are frustrated, confused, unhappy and just don’t know what to do next. It’s hard on all of us and we do what we can to help them (and ourselves for that matter).
But as August rolls on and the kids seem to be more crazy than ever, we are reminded that September is fast-approaching.
Routine is approaching.
A resurgence of pseudo-sanity is in sight.
Football, foliage, cooler nights, fire pits and marshmallows, pumpkin beer, hoodies, Thanksgiving. And soon thereafter, the fat man in the red suite.
By the way, can we stop making pumpkin beer? It’s really not good.
The seasons in New England can teach us a great deal about life, it’s challenges, and our place in the world. As we plunder into the surrealism of autumn, which brings with it its stunning natural beauty, remember too that it brings the inherent routine of nature and the ever-changing world. Just when we think we can’t take another snowstorm or rainstorm or heat wave, it changes. We move on but also find comfort in knowing it will be back next year.
There is solace in routine. Conversely, there is excitement in spontaneity and the unknown. I guess that’s why Mother Nature throws us curve balls routinely to keep us all in balance.
And That’s probably why parenting is so hard. It keeps us from living a life of blissfully wonderful self-indulgence and gluttony.
Even as wonderful as that might sound, I would miss the anticipation of September. I would miss the transition from spontaneity to routine, the excitement in my son’s eyes on that first day of school, the giggles of my twin girls as they try on Halloween costumes. I would miss their eager anticipation of meeting new teachers and classmates. I would miss Friday night football and marshmallows with the kids.
I would miss the insanity of my structured and predictable Google calendar.
So for now, I will embrace the chaotic sanity of the school year routine ~ and probably another mediocre pumpkin beer. But I will also look forward to next summer’s unstructured bliss, random exploration, late nights and Crane beach sunsets with friends.
Only one thing is certain: things changes, both good and bad. Seasons, routines, teachers, schools, kids, and relationships.
I’m trying to NOT figure it all out but rather take it all in, hold on tight, and enjoy the ride. After all, it’s all about the journey right?
Hello September. I see you.
There are things that drive us all and we embrace those passions that are the essence of who we are as human beings. For me, it’s technology, music, writing and storytelling. When I first read Rob Sheffield’s “Love is a Mix Tape”, […]
There are things that drive us all and we embrace those passions that are the essence of who we are as human beings.
For me, it’s technology, music, writing and storytelling.
When I first read Rob Sheffield’s “Love is a Mix Tape”, I understood exactly what he meant immediately. The power of sharing a curated list of music that tells a specific story to a specific person is enormously fulfilling but often, extremely difficult.
We all have different tastes in music; we all hear and tell different stories. Offering people a “story” to listen to that they may not have had the opportunity otherwise, for whatever reason, and helping them experience something new is nothing less than awesome.
It’s an enormous responsibility and it’s a high-stakes game of getting and keeping a listener’s attention. When done right, not only do you attain a new and loyal customer/listener, but you’ve now built trust in that relationship and just maybe opened your user’s ears to something entirely new and exciting.
I love building products and programs. I have been in technology my entire career, tactfully bridge the gap between my customers and dev/ops, curate strategic relationships, listen to what others (and data) tell me, and love sharing the enormity of music (and products) with everyone.
How could this not be the best job in the world? After all, isn’t life too short to chase the life we thought we were supposed to have and instead embrace the passions that have always been right in front of us?
For me, it’s music and storytelling. What’s your passion? Are you embracing it?