2008 Pre-Thanksgiving Mull

Just back from a late night trip to the 24 hour grocery. Not that I needed to. Not really. I just like going to the supermarket on a high traffic, pre-holiday moment. Somehow it gets me into the mood. I like the random human interaction. I like the smiles between strangers, and the little courtesies. It grounds me, amuses and delights. Lost in the anonymity, I just feel very very human. Didn't Oprah say that's what she most misses in her life? Shopping by herself in the supermarket?

I started the day early (early enough to still get a parking space) at the Central Market, the upscale sister to the more mainstream 24 hour HEB. It's a different picture tonight. The shelves are rummaged, bare, and disheveled, though employees are hard at work guiding and unpacking stacked carts full of fresh goods for the post-Thanksgiving rush. In the aisles wander young couples and Hispanics of all ages. I like the contrast. I feel at home in both environments. Satisfying bookends. Indulging in my own economic stimulus package, and human recharge.

On Cassie's daily visit to the office (yesterday when we kidded her boyfriend of 5 years, once apparently an active bachelor, now seemingly incapable of spending more than 45 minutes away from her, he smiled, "45 minutes is a LONG time." But I digress....) Cassie and I find ourselves talking about giving thanks. I realize I've blogged about what I'm talking about previously and go back to send her the easy link. Funny enough, the sentiments are exactly what I wrote about on this day last year. The pre-Thanksgiving mull.

But I also find myself lingering on a couple of different recent conversations with some younger women friends. Ages 28, 24, 21. In each case, they're wondering about their life, and how good or down they feel, and what seems to be missing. The common refrain is, "I need some new friends...some better friends for who I am now." And it makes me wonder...in this day of incessant social networks, is it still so hard to find people that feed and inspire you? Has it always been this hard? Is that the journey? As you mine for important connections, is that how you discover who you are? Have the social networks made it easier or harder? Interesting questions as I peer from my generation to the younger.

This moment, full of change and evolution

My old bff Susan writes that she misses the personal posts. I'm having trouble finding the right line to toe. This has been a crazily emotional time. My day to day is radically different, filled with an outside place to be, people to manage, and goals to understand, then outline and achieve. We just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. My Austin mainstay, once a living welcome wagon, then our closest friend, is now living in NYC. And my son, my sweet little guy, the youngest of my two children, is graduating from high school. It's the elixir of life. Change and growth and evolution. How exciting!!! What's better than to watch your little one come into their own, full of spit and vinegar, fully emerged to walk their own way? It's a great rush. But deeply emotional too, combined with many levels of loss.

I sit at the Lacrosse Banquet and see my son at the seniors table up front. It's my fourth banquet. It's a crystal clear marker of this time we've spent in Austin and what it's meant for my son. As a stranger, a newbie, this was the tribe that took him in, and gave him a platform. These are the parents that I've sat with, convivial strangers, strangers who carried the load so that my son could shine. His name is called last, the award the tallest, I know it's inevitable when the coach describes this very special kid and his commitment, dedication and constant leadership. It's my son, Season MVP. Again. Of course I'm overwhelmed with pride and pleasure. But also sadness and tears. He did this all on this own. And it took a lot. He had so much to overcome. Physically, logistically, even with me. I used to say, "just quit the damned team! It's too much of a hassle." But of course no, he didn't. And now simply, humbly, he's accepting the coaches and teams' acclaim. Again. I am so proud. And so grateful. And this moment has come to an end.

A week earlier I'm in the school cafeteria, where I've barely been. Sad about that too. Remembering my own high school, considering all the ways I could have been a part of this one. But no, my life in Austin has been chock full of the film world, not my kid's high school. We're there for the academic awards. Trustee award. Check. Scholar-Athletes. Check. My son's girlfriend gets something from the Principal - I think it's for best all-around leader and I'm thrilled to have a routing interest. Then a marine calls my son and the girlfriend's names and we're all confused though we laugh at the pairing. My son is laughing the hardest. What the ???!!! Oh... we deduce, must be the top two scholar athletes, one from each gender. All the h.s. kids here are amazing. Several raising hundreds of thousands of dollars in scholarships and awards to pay for college. I've loving watching my son banter with whoever he's next to as the lines change. I love hearing the whoops and hollers as his name is called. The kids get up one by one to parade around the room as their college choice and major is read off an index card. It's a major celebration, one they're not too cool to enjoy. These are great kids. Kids who've worked hard. Kids who've served. Kids' who've led. And I can't believe I'll no longer have access to this very particular kind of moment.

Last night was a backyard party with the high school steel drum band. High School Steel Drum Band!!! They certainly didn't have that at my high school. It's a totally diverse group of kids grooving for hours. They sound great. They look great. My son's pal Evan a particular delight as music bursts from him, his showmanship dominating. I'm in a backyard with families full of history. We're the newcomers but welcomed for this fleeting moment. I'm thrown back to the graduation parties of my own youth, 35 years ago. More grist for the mill.

Our kids have consumed us for almost 21 years. We love them excruiatingly. Every single moment, every single phase. We loved their wee selves. We love who they are now. As my son celebrates this newest landmark, this series of victories and parties and graduation. It's the very definition of bittersweet.

Routines shift, now night walks

The routines shift. Now I walk at night. Need to more than ever so it's easier to remember and do. There's something about finding that joy from movement that's essential. Especially when hormones are working against you, or change is in the anxiety stage. The other night John said, "go, get out before it gets dark." But no, I prefer the dark to walk. I love the twilight and the light fading. The glow of the florescent or artificial light, the deepening of the night blue sky. I love the anonymity and the freedom that brings. My optician says I prefer the world through my sunglasses because it's less "confusing." The sunglasses cut down the percentage of information needing to be absorbed. Maybe it's that way with the night as well. It's soothing. It's gorgeous. It's certainly a simple pleasure.

What I'm Not Writing About

The adjustments to a job working for others, with others. Getting up to speed and grieving for the luxurious freedom of movement I had for so long. Managing time (as always.) The questions of focus in an endlessly distracting environment, which is different from the questions of focus in a solitary environment. The evolution of personal authority. Creative ideas. Exciting partnerships. Pride. My son, so damned handsome, dressing for the prom. The three hours of prom picture taking...how different life is with/for go-getter high achieving daughters. The kids were spectacular, but, no it's not appropriate for me to post their pictures here. Trust me, they were awesome. Life changes in the blink of an eye.

Ben Chaplin, great company

I had the surprise good fortune of meeting the actor Ben Chaplin this week. I don't actually know that many actors. Directors, yes. But actors? Not so much. And some are exhausting - commanding all the attention you have, all the time. But some are the best company imaginable. And in our short time together, Chaplin was just that. Super bright, super articulate, funny as hell, and great company. He had a way of making each conversation come alive. Illustrating what he meant by a Liverpudlian accent twinged with German or the beauty of sports. He explained how much he loved sports. How in the moment each game seems like the most important thing in the world, the only thing! But in the bigger scheme, is totally meaningless. Life life? But picture it better told, funnier, smarter. It was a real privilege to meet his acquaintance.

I can't wait to catch him in a couple of our finest Texas directors newest work.

Facebook quandary

My new gig really has put a crimp in my blogging style. I just don't feel comfortable talking about some of the more personal feelings, and I never intended this to be a professional film booster blog. So I'm left quieter. But that's not the only modern day quandary. I'm also not sure what to do about Facebook. I had fun opening an account back in September. Within minutes I'd set up a lunch date with a peer for the first time in a couple of years. Sure we had each other's phone and emails, and we're even in the same neighborhood, but it was something about the photos on facebook that caught our attention and encouraged us to commit. Similarly, I reacquainted with a previous best friend from over 15 years ago. A best friend shifted into silence because of changing lives. I'd noticed her page on Myspace, but it wasn't until I was on Facebook, that she opened the door. And there's more stories like that. It's been fun!

But now that I've started a more public job, I'm getting "friend" offers from people I don't already know. And while maybe they're great, and maybe I'll come to really like them, I don't feel like being indiscriminate. Even while I put the most personal things in this blog, I still want some zones of privacy. So what to do? How much is necessary in my new position? My work and personal life has always been blurred, but now, how far do I have to take it?

Any thoughts? Advice?

Stumbling...sometimes on Happiness

Life is already really different. And it's a shame I can't write about it but it doesn't seem right. It doesn't seem right when the position involves so many other people, and a public organization. Doesn't seem right to share my personal foibles. About what it's like to get up and be somewhere at a certain time. To live on take-out. To go to an outside office and work among others for the first time in years. The camaraderie and the constant distraction. The different energies. It's a whole new world and I'm working on getting up to speed. Working on my systems - setting up the home/personal sync thing, cleaning up my address book, -- now way overgrown with weeds. I use to love hoarding all addresses. Now with the iphone, I need to cut the chaff. Desperately trying to figure out my new calendar/To-Do system. For me, writing things down essential. And the method, mattering. I've enjoyed different systems, over different years, for different needs. What will work best for me now?

In the meantime, really enjoyed this article pointed out to me by my new friend - the very lovely screenwriter/editor/producer Mary Sweeney.

A Conversation with Daniel Gilbert
The Smiling Professor
By Claudia Dreifus
Published: April 22, 2008
At Harvard, the social psychologist Daniel Gilbert is known as Professor Happiness.

The way it is

This has rung true for me over and over again. And it's looming very large right now. I hope to be less opaque soon.

"Life is what happens while you're making other plans"

-- John Lennon

The energy shifts

More and more everything comes down to energy.  I frequently talk about the energy equation in any relationship. There's got to be some exchange, whether it's intellectual or emotional, healing, restful, energizing - in any good relationship of any kind, there has to be some positive exchange of some kind of energy on both sides.  If you walk away depleted, it's not working.

I've come to respect the energy work in any body work and alternative healing.  Acupuncture, reflexology, massage, even yoga and pilates, and certainly dance applies here too, are all about getting the energy going, opening up areas of stagnation or blocks.

There's the energy of activity too.  For someone like me, who can see so many sides of any given situation, sometimes a paralysis sets in.  Over the years, as I've grappled with this repeatedly, wise ones have suggested, "It doesn't matter what decision you make, just make one."  Steps beget steps.  Action begets action.  Often times when you don't know what to do, you just have to do something.  And then the energy starts to shift.  And then sometimes amazing things happen.  Not necessarily what you've anticipated, not necessarily in a straight line, but amazing nonetheless.  This is one of those moments for me, when the shifts are becoming more seismic.  The tiniest of decisions and shifts of energy have had a hand in creating a groundswell.

So now, what?

As Judy said leaving lunch the other day, "I just need to figure out how I want to spend my 40s." Although now for me, it's my 50s. And I'm already one year in. Today I'm 51. More funny to me, than upsetting. Like, "how'd that happen?!!!" "How'd I get here?" But I did. And thankfully, happily, it's been swell.

So what next? This whole year has been a continuation of engagement with an eye towards evolution. How to get clearer? More focused? More responsible financially? More in control of my time and energy? More fierce in my decisions? More in tune with what matters most to me? Those are the decisions. Those are the challenges. I feel the movement, little by little, though it's far from clear and defined. I'm feeling the movement, right on time I suppose. Now 51, my littlest finishing up high school. I'm sensing change all around me as well. People surprising me with their lurches...oh, not fair to call them lurches...with their evolutions too. It's false to assume the world is solid while you're changing. Everyone's changing. Some moments more than others.

A young friend brought tears to my eyes today as he spoke of the possibility of of retiring his dream. He had to. He's right, the world is changing in a way that probably can't sustain his vision. But he's great, and talented, and though I know better, though I was in fact moved by his tough honesty, part of me lurched, "no, no, no, not you! You can't throw in the towel. It's too sad, too devastating, it's been too long." But he's right to reassess, to consider the harsh realities. It's part of what makes him so special, rather than deluded, arrogant and annoying. But I can't bear the thought of him not creating. And I don't think he can live without creating either.

So what do we do with our dreams? How interesting that I've gotten to this age without the harshness overwhelming? But now the world is changing all around. I've been talking about my place in this world all my life. So what now, when the stakes are even higher and, to use a tired old cliche, the road rougher?

Trust me, they say

One of the big topics this year has been truth. And trust. And coming to terms with how much people lie. I mean really lie, like all the time. I'm always surprised because it's so not in my nature. I'm straight ahead. As honest as I know how to be, as much of the time as I can be. I guess that's the kicker... how our needs to be honest vary... As do our abilities. How much do the really good liars know they're lying? Or is it a reflex, beyond their conscious mind? I read somewhere that it takes an exceptional mind to be a good liar, to keep track. Something about how honesty is really just an excuse for the more simpleminded.

How honest can I be, if I'm blind to my own blindspots? As we're all said to be? The sands shift.

I used to be more self-righteous about it all. I've always been honest. "Blunt" to a fault. Perhaps. I've had to learn how to tone it down. As I've evolved, I've learned to perhaps say a little less and keep some things to myself. I used to be able to say, honesty mattered. Now I find myself categorizing my friends into the "straight up" and "lies-a-lot" categories. And I'm don't seem to be de-friending those "lies-a-lot." I just listen to them a bit differently. I trust them differently. You learn to trust how they're not honest. But friends nevertheless. The sands shift.

And it's not like it's always easy to tell. Stories are often self-serving. Our perspective does guide and blind us.

I know what makes me unique or appealing is how direct I am. It's why any of you who read this blog, like it. I say things others don't necessarily say. People can count on that. But lately I've been wondering how much that exposes me to being used. I expose what I'm thinking. Therefore the manipulators have an easy handle. I can't forget that along with my honesty tag, a childhood constant refrain was, "You're so gullible."

Defiantly I would respond, "yes. yes I am. And what's wrong with that? Why choose to live assuming others are bullshitting me?" What an added burden to have to live with constant doubt? But lately I just don't know. There's a lot of haziness around. I squint. I listen. I try to feel the truth. I've no idea if I can. It's a bit of a conundrum.

LOL a moment ago, and again yesterday

Is it crazy self indulgent for me to be so amused by my son's blog that I need to re-post it here? You decide.

Suspended Suspense

Getting accepted into college was not nearly as exciting as I imagined it to be. There is no suspense, no drum roll as you open the letter, it is very disappointing. You get a big packet when you get in, and a little letter when you do not, which just seems like such an anticlimactic and flawed system. On top of that Lehigh wrapped congratulations around the outside which just made me care even less. If you were thinking about applying to college, do not, because it is nowhere near as exciting as the movies make it seem.

I do have another example of something that cracked me up so much yesterday that I broke out LOL in the car. I was listening to Terry Gross on KUT interview Meg Wolitzer on the eve of the publication of "The Ten-Year-Nap." (love the title). Wolitzer was recounting a crazy moment when after taking her 3 year old for swim lessons - as she was stark naked changing back into her clothes, he ran out of the locker room. At that time, at that gym, the towels were the size of , as she put it, kleenex. She had to quickly decide, cover the top or bottom. Which? She chose the top, and ran out into a lobby full of older people waiting around. Funny now. Mortifying then. But what made the story was that afterwards, she asked a group of her pals what they would have done. Which part would they have covered. Some said top, some said bottom. Finally someone answered, "my face."

Of course, the best possible answer.

Needing exactly that particular thing, and oh yeah my new iPhone

For someone not that particularly materialistic, I get hooked on certain things. Like my replacement Tumi bag that ended up stolen with the car and not recovered, a mere week after I'd finally started using it, years actually, after buying it. I'd thought I was pretty smart planning ahead for that replacement day.

My old prescription sunglasses, my favorites, also lost in the stolen car adventure. John's like, "what's the big deal? We got the car back!" Yeah, but not the now irreplaceable perfect bag and those great sunglasses. It's a year and a half later and I'm still upset. I can tell S. thinks I'm nuts, going on and on about the perfect bag. But to me it's like a precision tool, not a fashion item. I just use one, all the time, for everything. It needs to be a certain weight. Needs to stay on a certain way. It's got to expand for the laptop. It's got to collapse when I'm carrying less. It's got to look ok, in any setting. It's got to be pickpocket resistant. I've got to be able to find any item within, only by feel. It needs to work on an airplane.

So on Friday evening I picked up an iPhone. I'd been thinking about it for ages. Thinking but resistant. Money's tight. Did I really need it? I'm very tied to my Palm systems - my Palm desktop with it's excellent calendar and contact software. I even print my xmas card labels from the Palm contacts. I'd grown very fond of my free little LG flip cell with it's easy keypad for one-handed texting. I'd tiptoed into the future by forwarding my email to a Yahoo address (a back up system as much as anything,) which also allowed for an easy read via the phone. But I couldn't get the return address to come from one of my steady emails. And if people replied back to Yahoo back-up, I wouldn't get it in my normal channels. And I realized too, that Verizon was charging for going online, not just in minutes, or included in the texting fee, but in addition, last month over $15.

Not to mention the insidious peer pressure which had been building. I've wanted a blackberry ever since I first saw one. But the proliferation of iPhones was truly startling. Everywhere I looked, people started pulling them out. I was OK not being like some of my friends, acquiring on the first day. But over time it's grown. In so many of my meetings, people sit down, and lay their phones on the table. It becomes a totally insidious form of peer pressure. A quick photo memo here. An email there. The signature: "sent from my iphone." After ignoring it for months, finally, with a film festival trip coming up, and memories of how heavy my laptop was that I carried around last year, I succumbed.

And spent my entire weekend utzing about it. Delighted, impressed, but freaked out too. What about my Palm Calendar and contacts? I can use the Apple software but it's not as good! It's slower and clunkier! Am I being disloyal to change? Shortsighted? Maybe I should have waited for the google phones? And what about my memos and notes? What about the ruggedness of the little LG phone, and how quickly the alarms and texting come up? On the one hand, I'm hooked, and moving ahead, at the same time I'm anxious and wondering if I should turn it back in. Would I have prefer ed a Treo (Damn you Palm for letting your excellence wither away....)

Lurching into the future. Loving being able to look info up out and about. In awe about the very design of the thing. Feeling like a jerk for following the crowd. Concerned about how long the battery will last while I'm traveling. Overwhelmed frankly with how phones have become the most popular fetish object of all time! I think I've probably mentioned this before, years ago, in the Whole Earth Catalog, there was an article about addiction - and about how the cigarette pack was as much a part of the addiction as the cigarettes. The pack was portable, palm size. Always having one was a way of staying grounded. I feel like we've all transferred that addictive need in these nonsmoking years to our phones. For me, it's not a status thing per se. It's all about usability. How's it feel, how's it work on a semi-conscious level? It's a ridiculous waste of brain power until of course, all the new systems are in place, and I no longer have to question or worry about it. When I finally get the thing that works for me - it's a great relief. And I really dig in until I'm forced to change. Some new technology "need", some insidious pressure.

My favorite moments from Oscar night 2008

Jon Stewart pulling Once's c-o songwriter and star, Marketa Irglova back onstage to give her acceptance speech. Classy, classy move!

Diablo Cody's real tears.

Frances McDormand going crazy in her seat as her husband Joel Coen and his bro so eerily and calmly accepted their Best Director and Best Picture awards.

And though I was pulling for the ever awesome Cate Blanchette for Best Supporting Actress, thoroughly enjoyed the ultra cool, very fabulous Tilda Swinton. She was even funny and smart on the red carpet with Ryan Seacrest.

The night before Valentine's Day

Missed blogging on Valentine's Day. Just busy and not feeling well. Not that same cold and strep that's been going around. Maybe hormones, maybe anything, who knows what? Weird and odd. Can't remember a time when so many people were so sick. But I don't think this has any relation to that. Think it's more something odd and personal to me.

But back to Valentine's Day. I'd pretty much forgotten about the whole thing until I was on my way home @ 10pm on Wednesday night pre-Vday and remembered to stop in at the local 24 hour Walgreens for some cards. Wyatt reached me just as I walked inside looking for some art supplies. I arrived home to find a pizza delivery car outside, a nice hot pizza inside on the table, and Wyatt ready to hand-make a card for his girlfriend of many months. A little later two of his pals show up. One with ingredients for gluten free cookies for his girlfriend (peanut butter, sugar, eggs, choc chips, + pecans.) For the next several hours, these sweet good looking high-school seniors diligently sit at the table constructing cards. I've pulled out boxes of old glitter, rubber stamps, metallic hearts, ribbon, pieces of wrapping paper. Wyatt says, "Mom, I know what you should do -- teach art to elementary school kids. You'd love that! You can just have them make stuff out of anything!"

The boys work super hard and carefully. Wyatt's is crazy! Globs of glitter and scribbles and three dimensionality. Tim's is extremely precise, with a printed color photo at the center and subtle elegant design. Will's is somewhere in the middle. I can't remember when I've had as much fun just hanging around the edges of these teen-age boys. "When I was in H.S. I never had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day..." "Mom, we don't care!!!" "Oh yes, we do" the other two politely reply. I wasn't going to bore them with any ridiculous details - like my one H.S. V-day memory of going to see Straw Dogs at the movies for a one-time date with Joey Acompora -- that's the kind of girl I was. Straw Dogs!! I was just marveling at the strange species in front of me. I don't think I knew H.S. boys like this! Certainly wasn't their beneficiary. And I know it's no comfort to all my 30ish-plus year-old girlfriends who are looking for the good guys. But it's still nice to know that good guys do exist in some generation. Boys, like my son, who've bought flowers, and a gigantic stuffed animal almost as big as the petite girlfriend herself, and still put their all into a handmade card with a personal note on the back. (No, I didn't get to read.) Totally heart warming and delightful.

As they sing on tv, the tears fall

Sitting here happily watching the Grammy's with John - like we've done a hundred times before. (OK, not a 100, 26 times but that's besides the point.) Just hanging, enjoying this commercial tv awards show, thinking Alicia Keys looks great in that dress even though it looks like it's hard for her to move, digging Prince as always, getting a kick out of The Time and Rihanna, then that amazing kid starts singing "Let It Be" and crazily, I start to cry. It's this crazy knee jerk reaction I get every single time I hear singing on television. I actually physically cry. I can't stop. And it always surprises me. I'm not much of a crier in most of my life. But there's something about singing and TV that strikes so deep. John and I laugh about it as I'm try to talk, trying to ignore it, but knowing it's inevitable. I just wonder why? Because I sang as a kid? Because singing is beyond words and intellect? It happens with kids' live too - like at school concerts. So I acknowledge it finally like I always do, laughing while I'm crying, noting how it's getting even more intense as my hormonal changes intensify.

Uh, oh Aretha's coming on. Kleenex!

Damn and what about that Beyonce! She's the whole package....

Dusk

John says, "Go on your walk before it gets dark."  But I prefer it then.  Dusk is my favorite time.

Middle-age is truly depressing, worldwide study finds

"Middle-age is truly depressing, worldwide study finds"

This Yahoo News headline item jumped off the screen, provoking a true LOL. But when I clicked through to the actual article, the amusement dimmed. It's fascinating to see the worldwide pattern. But it doesn't feel right to me. Personally that is. My life is much happier now then when I was younger. I can never relate to that nostalgia for the joys of childhood. And even age 20 was often torturous. So then what happens to me on this cycle?

(article excerpts)
The British and U.S. researchers found that happiness for people ranging from Albania to Zimbabwe follows a U-shaped curve where life begins cheerful before turning tough during middle age and then returning to the joys of youth in the golden years.

But the good news is that if people make it to aged 70 and are still physically fit, they are on average as happy and mentally healthy as a 20-year old.
-- Michael Kahn, Reuters London

More Malcolm Gladwell

On second thought, how amazing is it that all these Malcolm Gladwell pieces are available for free online! I'd no idea. Very generous. And I suppose a byproduct of his tremendous best seller success. That's the rub isn't it? Either you can afford to give it away because you've made enough? Or no one's placed a value on it so you have to? Either pole at the root. And confusing in the long run. All the models breaking down. Steve Jobs bluntly in response to the new little Amazon reader: "No one reads anymore." I am so confused living through this moment of tremendous change. Sucked in, seduced, loving so much, but then what? Where'd my pillars go?

Not saying anything new. Not saying anything smart. Just leaving crumbs in the forest.

creating a process to short circuit your own worst habits

Damn, now he's going to think me a stalker because I can't help but repeat this new link from the blogger I wrote about yesterday...although, I could have picked it up from Lifehacker the other day myself, but didn't, so ok, what are you going to do. The link is really worth sharing regardless. It's from a blog post by Brian Oberkirch inspired by an interview with Chuck Close by Terry Gross. Continuing the Annie Lamott "Bird by Bird" theory, or what Natalie Goldberg teaches (not mentioned in the link.) About showing up everyday and continuing. Not worrying about the overwhelming whole, just chipping away, little by little. This is something I know intellectually, this is not yet something that's habit - and practice, and that's why I'm repeating it. Because I need to embrace it so deeply until it becomes my second nature too.

I particularly like this last paragraph by Oberkirch. "if you can create a process that short circuits some of your own worst habits." Damn. yeah. What a good idea.

"Not only do I love the hope in that sentence, I think it’s true. If you can create a process that short circuits some of your own worst habits, and you really believe in that process, eventually you’ll get a sweater, a nine-foot painting, chicken enchiladas, a Web site, a marathon." -- Oberkirch