Day 24: Same as I ever was.

The “un-plan” for my 30 days of me time was to carve out space to do the things I’ve neglected for too long. Turns out I filled my time with the familiar, only with more freedom. Isn’t that interesting? Finding your lost love and discovering it’s the same as it always was. Only you were different.

Screen shot 2015-03-26 at 12.54.27 PMI’ve been writing professionally (in advertising and promotions) for umpteen years (maybe even 20 but at some point you have to stop counting.) Though I still get a charge out of the process, like everything, it can get rote.  So I took this break to teach myself that I could take what I loved, but grown weary of, and pivot. I wanted to see if a time-out could help me refresh and re-direct new energy into something more fulfilling. I’ve been thinking about ways to take my passion and skills to different outlets–and writing this silly blog has been a tiny part of my test.

The result? Same as it ever was. It’s a love-hate relationship. This, always-on-thought-to-paper process. But I’m lollygagging in the love section. What’s different is I’m not doing this on the clock, for a commercial brand or for my résumé. I like the craft. I like the performance without the spotlight. I like the kneading and rolling and shaping. Continue reading

Day 15: Me-time, with English subtitles.

Screen shot 2015-03-16 at 11.54.15 PMThe interesting thing about writing this blog a day for 30 days of me-time is that I can’t shut it off. While I was running today, I could hear my thoughts typed out with every pound of the pavement.

Is it the daily practice of writing, or the focused introspection or the Buddhist mindfulness I’ve been trying to teach myself?

As an advertising writer, it’s sometimes (but not always) the same. When I’m working on headlines. Billboard headlines. The kind where you have to be clever and on-brand and tell a story in five words or less–at least 50 times over so the client has options of clever, on-brand, storytelling in five words or less. It’s hard to find the “off” button. I jot down notes on my iPhone on the subway home. I’m writing oScreen shot 2015-03-16 at 11.53.17 PMn snippets of recycled paper I have clipped together on my kitchen table. I even scribble words here and there in bed while I wind down. You can’t just flip the switch. The words streaming like a news ticker in the lower third screen of my life. Until the deadline. Until the next project kick-off. Where it starts all over again. Continue reading