Living In the World, Not on It

When I screw up, I really screw up big. I can't really talk about it, but I screwed up and I need to fix it - and I am not confident at this point that I can. I am not going to find that confidence any time too soon. It isn't hiding under my desk with the answer to why I screwed up, and on such an enormous scale. I have three aspects to my job and two of them seem to be problem areas for me. What a track record that is. The musing that I do is that I don't understand why people drink alcohol when they are upset or something is wrong. I am a tiny bit drunk (I don't feel drunk, but I had some miniscule amount of vodka in my juice (at first I filled the gass not quite half way. We are talking about a six ounce glass, not a dinner glass. I mixed it with Fresca. YOWZA. WAY, way, way too strong! I dumped about half of that out and put juice in there with it. That was a little better, but it still needed less, so I dumped more out. By that time, we are looking at maybe an oun

This is a good article: Let's say you're all set for your big interview—the one you're confident will change your career. You know you can wow the person across the desk with your accomplishments. Or you're ready to give the presentation that reflects months of hard work and success. But before you even open your mouth, the rest of your body has already spoken volumes. What does your body language say? Does it say you're confident, smart, and enthusiastic—or just the opposite? Only a small percentage of communication involves actual words: 7%, to be exact. In fact, 55% of communication is visual (body language, eye contact) and 38% is vocal (pitch, speed, volume, tone of voice). The world's best business communicators have strong body language: a commanding presence that reflects confidence, competence, and charisma. More Than Words One problem with body language is it may not convey what you really feel. For example, keeping your hands stiffly by your side or s

I have just spent twenty minutes trying to find the right top. In this case, it would be the right top that transforms me from the fat woman that I am to a stunning, svelte creature that looks like a dark haired Michelle Pfeiffer. There is, sadly, no such top out there, and if there is, I don't have the time to find it and I certainly can't afford it. So, on a practical level, it is useless to try on fifteen shirts and hope that each time I look in the mirror it will be some one else that I don't know (but looks amazing ) looking back at me. What are the odds? Slim. Clearly. But, let's be honest here. It is a party full of EMTs. This means that 75% of us are obviously overweight and the remaining 25% are weirdly thin. Yes, that is right. Beautiful people don't normally gravitate toward this sort of thing. I'm not saying anything that isn't patently obvious just from sheer observation. There is a small percentage that are more than weird or pretty or outside

And snow... I get into work in the morning, and instead of putting my iPod on the desk and hooking it up to the speakers, I use my headphones, ensuring that no matter how loud I want it and have it on, there is no way I will wake up any potential guests. I start working, I do my various tasks, and then, without thinking about it, at some point I head down for tea. Bopping and dancing and butt-wiggling along! Well, we all have our problems, right? Some of us have angst about everything we do. Some of us agonise over all that small stuff. You know what I mean. One little speck of dirt on the window. The one tee shirt that someone slips into the wrong laundry pile. I like to dance around to music. I'll be doing a lot of that this weekend - at least, that is my goal! So some time between 0615 and 0800, I bop down to the kitchen, zipping along to some bouncy, happy, happening song, people think it is funny! Which, really, it is. But they think - and rightly so - that I am happy. Which I

Bad weather forecast heading our way... After the winterless winter we have been having, the weather gods are eyeing this area with ferocious intent. Not surprising. On the first Saturday of this new year (I guess not so new now) we had a 71°F (19°C) day, complete with golfer lined up at the first tee. I suppose you can't blame them - having seen what a yen for golf can possess a person to do, this is a prime opportunity, not to be missed. This afternoon when I left work, there was a lone person out on the play deck... no, what is that called? The big hill where everyone whacks practice balls? Oh, yes, the Driving Range. Well, there he was - a guy in a parka out there striking little white balls. It was all of 32°F (0°C), and there is someone so badly struck with the golf disease that he'd be out there in frigid weather to do this. That is nuts. Having played nine holes of golf some years ago (Luis practically dragged me out to the course kicking and screaming. Not being a pers