Outside the Shoe Box

Let me just state the obvious. I’m a control freak. And in my job, I’m a CREATIVE control freak. In all of my past positions, it’s been my tendency to erase all creative traces of my predecessor and start over with my newer, better work. After all, who could live up to MY unrelenting standards? Certainly not the person I replaced, of course! (I hope you know I’m being sarcastic in all of this ... except I really am a control freak.)

Frustration has always come easily to me. Lately, it’s been taking up residence at my desk. Here’s the situation. My predecessor designed a brochure that, in my humble opinion, is just sooooooo 10 years ago. One of my first tasks on the job was to finish making edits to the brochure and send it to print. Being the perfectionist that I am, I spent hours trying to “fix” it because I knew I had to, even though I considered it a monstrosity that should be completely scrapped and started fresh. Alas, I remorsefully added my small touches to the piece, resisting the temptation to do a full-scale redesign. I sent it to the printer and considered it done. Now, I can start fresh, I thought.

Silly me. I recently turned in a design for another project, a tri-fold brochure. I was fairly proud of it, thinking to myself, “See how much better this looks than that ugly old thing? See what a good designer I am?’’ Shortly after, it was returned to me, unmarked, with the request, “Make it look like the other brochure so we can carry out the ‘theme.’” (Read: Spread the ugly design across multiple other pieces I won’t be caught dead with in my portfolio, and thus, give me nothing in my first year on the job to showcase my creative abilities.)

Cue pouty face.

It’s not like I haven’t encountered situations like this in the past, but it’s just that it’s been a while. I wasn’t fully prepared for the resentment that would well up inside. And it’s not like the person asking me to do this is wrong, in fact, they’re completely right. It should match the theme, regardless of how hideous it may be. And furthermore, it’s not my decision, but it is my job to make it happen.

If only you could show your portfolio to future employers with footnotes.

• - “My boss made me add this, even I thought it looked terrible.”
• - “This piece would have been much better had I been given free creative reign.”
• - “I had to use this photo because of the space constraints but there were much better ones, trust me!”

And my favorite:

• - “You should have seen my original draft.”

The artist in me wants to prove that I knew better, but was unjustly forced to do otherwise. The martyred graphic designer, forced to carry out someone else’s wishes, shackled and chained by the bad taste and ignorance of the my-nephew-has-Microsoft-Publisher-and-designs-flyers-for-his-boyscout-troop-so-I-know-good-design superior … Oh, woe is me!

Sigh.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up with creating something “show-worthy” that I forget I’m not the boss. Someone else is. Isn’t that what being an employee is about? Someone else makes the decisions, you make them happen, and you get paid. Seems simple enough. Even in my freelance work, I may be in charge of my company, but the client is still the ultimate boss. If I can’t make them happy, I won’t get paid, nor will I get referrals. I don’t have a problem accepting this principle in freelance work, so why is it so much more of a struggle to suppress my start-a-revolution voice in my real job?

Recently I ordered some shoes online. They arrived in their tidy little shoe box inside, packed neatly inside another large shipping box. It makes me realize that being a creative professional for profit means you have to think differently than you would if you were an artist. As an artist, anything goes, but as a paid creative professional, that's usually not the case. Artists can think outside the box to limitless degrees, creating works of art that may one day be purchased by someone who appreciates the piece for its artistic value.

But as a creative professional, you must approach the situation a bit differently. Think outside THIS box, but inside THAT box. And that’s just how it works. If you really want to have full creative control, you should be an artist, but I hope you like pork and beans because so few are appreciated (financially) for their work. That's not to say you can't still create some really great work, but you just have to keep an open mind, knowing that changes inevitably will be made that you might not agree with.

So, my message to my inner artist: Suck it up and move on. You design to get paid … by someone else who has the final say. Welcome to the real world. Deal with it.
 
And that, my friends, is easier said than done. But I’m working on it.

Getting Real About Goals

I have some amazing friends with amazing careers. Among them:

• Assistant professor at a Big 12 university
• Former press secretary for a senator and aircraft manufacturer communications professional
• Former communications staffer for a national livestock organization
• Waterpark marketing director
• The Chicago lawyer, recruiter, financial analyst and CPA (4 family members)
• Small business owners
• Master's of theology students
• Vegas event and wedding planner

Of course, this is just a short list, as I could go on and on and on and ... But wow. These folks are not only fantastic people, but they're very accomplished professionals.

Even though I love them all so much and I'm extremely proud of all that they have achieved, it's easy to let myself become intimidated by their greatness. After all, I've barely strayed an hour from my hometown -- especially in comparison to these folks. During my job hunt, I became even more painfully aware that my decision to enjoy the perks of a more rural and small-town life has definitely been at the expense of far more limited career choices. It's been quite a challenge to sift through the available positions for ones that even slightly match up with my goals. I'm lucky to have finally found one.

Living here was a decision Cody and I made together, and we're usually quite confident that we're in the right place. But sometimes it's hard to deal with the emotions I experience when I hear about the wonderful things my friends are doing. I used to think it was jealousy, but when I consider how much I love these people, I know that's not the case. It's more like a yearning to achieve my own goals, maybe even an inspiration ... I so easily forget that they can be accomplished right here, right now.

It's been so tempting to identify success as having an important-sounding title and living in some kind of exciting location. I've often fretted about not being as "successful" as my friends and peers, simply because I'm in normal old Manhattan and I haven't felt that my positions were all that important. I know that's totally untrue, but sometimes these thoughts just invade my mind and I can't shake them. I throw myself a little pity party. Which gets me where? Nowhere.

It's a real task to remind myself that these were my choices, and the choices my friends have made are theirs. By choosing to stay in one location, I made the decision to narrow my choices from the whole wide world of careers. After all, if a fancy title in a fun city was what I felt was truly important in life, I could definitely make that happen. But what little wisdom I do have tells me that even though it's enticing, it won't bring me true happiness.

Even though I mope sometimes, I have friends who would kill to be in my shoes -- working on campus, living in the beautiful hills outside of Manhattan, close to family and home, married to a wonderful man with the most infectious sense of humor, two wonderful dogs, the list goes on and on. Man, I've sure got it good. I'm so thankful for that when I can actually clear my head to soak it all in.

I think what it really comes down to is not being very clear about my goals -- because in all actuality, I've achieved so many of them so far. They may be a little different than I envisioned when I graduated from K-State, as there have been plenty of detours and potholes along the way. But there's a huge lesson of balance to be learned here. I haven't mastered it, but I'm working on it.

I don't need to get a "better" job or move away to be successful. I can be successful right here, right now. Sometimes, I recognize that I already am.

Kudos to all my friends who have pursued their dreams! I'm so incredibly proud of you and you inspire me!

P.E. and People Watching

On Saturday, we sat in the nosebleed section to cheer on the Wildcats. As a very uneventful game unfolded far below us, I engaged in one of my favorite hobbies – people watching. I silently surveyed the population, examining characters of all shapes and sizes. Sometimes I compared myself, other times I whispered comically to my husband. Sometimes I just sat in sheer awe.

In this instance, two individuals stick in my mind.

One was an obese, older woman, who festively donned a set of purple mardi gras beads over a white tank top and faux jean shorts (despite the fact that everyone else had jackets and jeans on). It would be an understatement to say that her body oozed out of the armholes in the shirt and bottom of her shorts. I watched her labor up the steps in the upper level of Bill Snyder Family Stadium, stopping about every two steps to rest in all her doughy glory.

The other individual made me supremely sad, even a bit angry. It was a young boy, maybe around age 7 or 8. He was about as round as he was tall. He, too, stopped every few steps to rest as he trekked up the stadium stairs. As he passed us in row 20, he was completely out of breath, panting as loud as Lucy, my Labrador.

What a shame! The older woman has had years to reach her current state (and should know better), while this child has become obese in just a few short years of life (and probably doesn't have a clue). Sure, it was a long way up there, but shouldn’t we all be in adequate shape to walk a short distance or climb a few stairs?

I don’t have any idea what physical education standards are today in schools, but now I’m really curious. I ran a mile and a half yesterday at the Rec, and it later occurred to me that it was the farthest I’ve EVER run. A mile was the most we ever did in P.E., and I remember having a feeling of uneasiness and wanting to hide in the locker room those days. Most days it was just a quarter-mile on the track or a few laps around the tiny old high school gym. The last time I was in P.E. was 1997. So in 13 years, has anything changed? I sure hope so.

The CDC estimates that 17 percent of kids between ages 2 and 19 are obese (2008). That’s not just “overweight,” that’s a BMI at or above the 95^th percentile for kids of the same age and gender. Yikes!  

And adults … well, we’re embarrassingly worse. According to the CDC’s 2009 data, between 26 and 27 percent of Riley County is obese. As a state, more than 28 percent of Kansans are obese, and we’re the 19^th fattest state in the nation. (Of the top 20, more than half are southern states.) In fact, one in three Americans is considered obese and another one in three is overweight. That means for every three people you meet, only one is not packing around extra pounds (CDC, 2008).

People, this is a problem. The elephant in the room is us – the 68% of Americans who are fat, or worse, blimps. And that’s being nice. I’ll write more on this later, but for now, let’s get moving!  

Halloweekend Fail

We had an awesome Halloweekend, filled with friends, football and fun. Unfortunately it was also filled with fat. Lots of it.

In my mimosa-induced delusion, I devoured an unquantifiable amount of a concoction we began affectionately referring to as “man dip,” named for one of the husbands who made it. It was a sinful creation of sour cream and cream cheese, topped with taco sauce, cheddar cheese and bacon. As odd as it sounds, it was delightful … and addicting. And gosh darn it, I just needed one more bite. Just one more. I promise this will be the last. Then another. Then another empty promise. And so on.

So, the next day, I calculated up my Weight Watchers points, knowing full well that the number I was about to tally represented an ungodly amount of awfulness. As suspected, it was huge, but I was dismayed to find it was three times my daily points threshold.

Wow. Talk about an epic fail. On top of all of the other calories I consumed, “man dip” put me over the edge. Three days worth of points. THREE.

No wonder Americans are so grotesquely overweight. We turn a blind eye toward our snacking, thinking that because it’s not a “real meal” that it doesn’t really count. We love our food, and we’re downright ignorant about what kind and how much of it we consume. And even when we know it’s bad, sometimes we choose to just ignore it.

I knew the “man dip” was bad. But I ate huge quantities of it anyhow. The word “Willpower” popped into my head several times, but alas, it was of no use. The lady who leads the Weight Watchers meetings in Wamego always says “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.” My tastebuds beg to differ, but my logical self knows it’s true.

There Is No Place Like ... Kansas State!

Photo by: Shannon Krueger

In light of the K-State vs. Nebraska game tonight -- and because I'm stuck at home doing laundry and dishes instead of cheering on the Cats in person -- I think it's particularly relevant to talk about Wildcat Pride.

While I can't be in Bill Snyder Family Stadium tonight, just seeing the cameras pan over the roaring crowd fills me with warm fuzzies of my time as a student. I have been so fortunate to feel that same feeling walking on campus again this week. It feels notably different, as I'm not sporting jeans and a backpack, and quite obviously no longer look like a student. But the warmth and family atmosphere is still there.

Let me preface any further thoughts by saying: Yes. I was once an intern and later a grad student at Nebraska. I spent summer 2002 in the IANR news office and returned as a grad assistant in fall 2003. I have 9 credit hours in distance education, college teaching methods and rural development that I transferred in to my master's in mass communication at K-State. Long story short, I wanted to specialize in rural development, but the courses I needed were only offered every couple of semesters. It would have taken forever to take all four courses. Looking back, I should have stuck around, but that's another story.

Photo by: Shannon Krueger

So I transferred back to K-State, got married and started working at my alma mater. However, had I spent more time at Nebraska, I think I might have developed a similar fondness for the university. They still have a sweet spot in my heart, so it makes it easier to control the normal hostility most Wildcats have for our historically powerhouse football neighbors up north. I may have to rescind this statement ... as Nebraska just scored their first touchdown and "There Is No Place Like Nebraska" is blaring. I'll let it slide since I now have four friends from high school residing in the Cornhusker state. Note: Although I was a student, I managed to avoid purchasing any red clothing.

Wherever you're from, there is an air of excitement and pride that seems to emanate from college campuses. It's a strange sensation, but once you experience it, you'll never be the same. All rivalries set aside, I'm quite blessed to have had this experience in more than one place.

During my first few years after graduation, I was working at the K-State Alumni Association while also in grad school. Even though I was technically still a student and spent every day on campus, I noticed something very different about how I felt. I had almost a feeling of homesickness, like perhaps I had lost something very important to me. It seemed that life-after-undergrad could never be as exhilarating. I was deeply downhearted, fearing that the glory days of my life had passed.

It took working off-campus to help me bring that back into perspective. As time passes I'm learning that there's more than being a carefree student. While it was a fantastic experience, I now realize what a blessing it is to have some stability and the ability to plan instead of year-to-year, semester-to-semester uncertainty (not to mention the scary "What will I do after graduation?" question).

Instead of feeling homesick, I feel energized and proud to be an alum, and particularly blessed to be done with that portion of my life. Granted, I've strongly considered a Ph.D., but that, too, is another story. True, things are different as an alumnae. But finally, while walking the corridors of Waters Hall, I can look back with fond memories and gratitude that I'm not studying for a midterm -- instead of feeling that my life was only complete as a student.

No doubt, college makes an immense impact in one's life. While Cody and I differ on our approach to higher education, I strongly contend that our kids should thoroughly consider a four-year degree because of some of the experiences you gain. Nothing against technical school (which Cody attended and gained a quite prosperous career from), but I can't imagine missing out on all the experiences I had as a student. I met some of my closest friends, gained a career path, broadened my outlook and became part of a huge family. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

So, win or lose tonight, the Wildcat Nation is loyal, loud and proud. It's easy to be a fan of any college team, but there's a significant component missing from that pride if you haven't ever set foot on campus. I'm fortunate to have experienced the real deal at K-State, and it's exciting to meet others who can say the same. I make a point to wear K-State clothing whenever I travel, because you never know where you'll meet another Wildcat. After all, once a Wildcat, always a Wildcat. Go State!

Photo by: Shannon Krueger

New Beginnings

Sometimes you just have to start anew. This week, I started a new job, a new diet (again) and a new exercise program.

First, the new job. I started Monday as the Communications Coordinator for K-State Agricultural Economics. My duties include public relations and marketing for the department, including graphic design, writing, website management and event planning. I've got great hours, as it's a 3/4 time position. This leaves me time for freelancing now and, later on, for spending time with kids. I'm liking everything so far, but of course, there's always that awkward phase of a new job where you're clueless. That will be the case for some time. Nevertheless, it's fantastic to be back on campus.

Next, the exercise program. With my new job, I get access to the K-State Rec Complex (for a fee, of course). Plus, I'm getting off at 4 p.m. -- the same as Cody. We meet at the Rec and exercise for an hour. We've decided that this will now be part of our day. A non-negotiable part of our day. So far, I've gone three days in a row, which is quite a feat for Little Miss Exercise-Averse.

Finally, the diet. While I've tried doing Weight Watchers online off and on for the past couple of years, I found it was too easy to convince myself that it was OK if I fell off the wagon. So, with Cody's encouragement, I attended my first meeting in Wamego tonight. I was amazed to find a packed room with people of all ages, shapes and sizes. I had always been afraid to go to a meeting because I figured I'd walk in and be the "small" one who garnered the resentment of all of the folks who had much more weight to lose. After all, my starting weight is some folks' target weight. However, I know how much I gained in grad school and over the course of my employment post-Alumni Association. A lot of it was stress induced, but then again, a lot of it was just plain laziness. I was inspired to hear how much the participants had lost. One lady lost 110 pounds! Holy cow. Others, 30 or 40 pounds. How reassuring to see real people from my community who have actually achieved their goals ... not just the "poster child" types on the website. Also, in counting points the last several days, I've found that it's not that hard, it just requires discipline.

So, there's my update. It had been a while since my last post, but I've had lots of inquiries about my new job and I thought I'd fill everyone in!

Changing Circumstances

I'm reading a great book by Sonja Lyubomirsky called The How of Happiness. While it sounds a bit like a self-help resource, it's packed full of fascinating scientific research on happiness. (Plus, it was on the bargain rack at Barnes & Noble. How could I go wrong?)

One idea that's really struck me is hedonic adaption, which is basically a fancy way to say that we're greedy and we aren't very good at counting our blessings. Positive experiences happen in our lives, and they give us a temporary boost in happiness, but over time, that boost wears off. In other words, happiness is like a drug, and we're always looking for that next hit after we come down from our high.

We know firsthand that God blesses us tremendously. But instead of giving thanks and appreciating what we have, we just expect more when the new wears off, much like a child grows tired of a new toy and begs for a new one despite an overflowing toy box at home. Suddenly, we think that we are very unhappy if we aren't getting more. We compare our house, car, clothes, looks, jobs, etc. to those of our neighbors, friends and family, and try to measure up.

How interesting (and completely wrong) that we assume we will be happier by changing our circumstances -- whether our job, looks, home, income or posessions. Lyubomirsky points out numerous studies that show that such changes do little to provide lasting joy.

This year, Cody and I did some work to undo the aforementioned "changes in circumstances" that we'd made in the past several years, during which we bought whatever we wanted, as if the new would never wear off. We just figured that we both made good money, so we could afford it. And on paper, we could. But like most Americans, we were up to our ears in payments. Trust me, the glitter of a new Jeep wears off two years later. We stopped and realized that if we continued this pattern, we'd forever be making payments on things that really didn't make us any happier than before.

This year, we began to work on changing our thinking. Call it the economy, call it downsizing, whatever. I think of it as reprioritizing, thanks to a little help from Dave Ramsey and our new paradigm. We watch our budget now, knowing that spending doesn't bring happiness. In fact, we began to realize that the material things in our lives were doing just the opposite -- making us miserable!

The biggest change we've made was selling both of our brand new cars. It was tough explaining our new reasoning to friends, family and especially my co-workers at the dealership. However, the rewards have been tenfold. We are now down to one car payment and have only six more months before we have both -- yes BOTH -- vehicles paid off. Hallelujah!  

The other big change was downgrading cell phones, which was considered another drastic measure, perhaps at times bordering on cruelty. Cody still complains that he can't watch videos from his friends (the content of which I still contend isn't worth watching anyhow), and I gripe when I can't use Google maps or Facebook like I once did on my Blackberry. But again, the rewards have been worth it. I've also found that I spend less time with the blasted contraption glued to my hand, waiting for that next email, text, call or instant update from various social media. It's quite refreshing. Sometimes, I even leave my phone in another room. Now there's a change.

In the end, we're thrilled with the changes we've made. Do we miss anything about the stuff of our old lives? Sure. But we know the change is worth it. In the words of Dave Ramsey, "Don't even think of keeping up with the Joneses. They're broke!" Most importantly, we've learned to count our blessings.

P.S. Thanks to Tom and Morgan Roesler for helping encourage us to jumpstart our road to Financial Peace.

What AC/DC Really Meant

As if you hadn't noticed, yes, I have thighs. I know, I know. While you try to act surprised, you can also pretend you haven't noticed how they're not proportional to the rest of my body.

In public, have you ever noticed someone afflicted by this condition and wondered if they knew how ridiculous they looked? As if thighs were an accessory we chose to wear. You've heard the Coco Chanel rule, right? “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.” Well, if it worked like that, I would put these oversized accessories back in the jewelry box every time.

I have cursed them for a good 15 years and instead of shrinking, they seem to have gone the opposite direction. I hadn't given thighs much thought (except for how much I detest my own) until last night during my workout. I realized there are several types of thighs.

First, you've got chicken thighs. I've torn out countless pages from Cooking Light calling for them, though I don't particularly care for bone-in bird.

Next, we have "American Thighs" as in AC/DC's overplayed-at-wedding-dances hit "You Shook Me All Night Long." I've always despised that particular line of the song because to be "Knocking me out with those American thighs," I can safely assume that said rockers are either referring to a pro wrestler with a name like Slasher or a knockout gorgeous woman with a body that looks absolutely nothing like mine.

Which brings me to the last category of thighs: the dreaded thunder thighs. While trying to define thunder thighs in a technical sense -- mostly to determine whether I technically classify as having them or not -- I stumbled across some rather comical definitions from Urban Dictionary. A few of my favorites:

• These are thighs that are NOT "thunder thighs" but the girl thinks she has them, but they are not.
• "THUNDER THIGHS" are a fat girl's thighs that are so humongous, big and fat that they clap together when she walks. This produces a loud noise which goes like "SLAP, SLAP, SLAP," hence the "thunder" part of the word.
• A woman whose thighs are so powerful she can crush granite between them. It's so sexy! It can happen to women who march.
• A girl with EXTREMLY big thighs who wears tight skinny jeans to make her legs look small (doesn't work).
• They win paddleboat races.
• Of a woman, large, broad hips and thighs. One of the most distasteful images possible is a woman of such build in a bikini.

And my personal favorite:

• Thick thighs on a curvy (not fat) lady. Usually a girl with thunder thighs has a Nice A**!

Oddly enough, thunder thighs is not always a derogatory term. Who knew? I'd like to think that AC/DC was paying tribute to the curvy girls out there (like yours truly). Because we can't all be stick figures, nor do we want to be. Being curvy and fit, now that's more like it. For now, I have to keep working on that.

Excuses and Fantasy Worlds

It's amazing how easily we can convince ourselves to do or not do something based on excuses. Not having "enough time" has long been one of my biggest excuses for not exercising and eating healthy. Only recently have I realized how ridiculous this reasoning is.

For three years, I've given up countless evenings, weekends and lunches for the sake of my job. I would eat out just to evacuate my closet of an office. I watched my once svelte waistline soar into double digits as I gobbled down fast food and drowned my sorrows with a cold one at night. Worst of all, I built one wicked dependency on Pepsi and sweets.

"If only I had more time," I fantasized. To me, the only seemingly feasible solution was to work from home. Then I'd have more time to exercise. Then I'd go for walks at lunch. Then I'd eat healthier because I'd have a kitchen full of nutritious options and couldn't justify a drive to grab a burger.

Enter fate. Exit fantasy world. At the end of June, my job was eliminated due to budget. Finally, I thought, I can get healthy. It seemed like a blinding bright side to what otherwise felt like the biggest disappointment of my life.

Two months later I'm still hunting for a suitable job and that elusive healthy life I thought would be so easy to acquire. All that fantasizing about how I'd work out when I finally had "more time" was exactly that -- a fantasy. I've learned it's not a matter of having the time. It's making the time. Last night, as the last traces of sunlight slipped under the horizon, I tried to make excuses. We had just arrived home from the grocery store and hadn't eaten supper yet. It was nearly dark. The dogs really need out. But my former cross country runner husband helped me make time, and I went out for a 25-minutes of walking and running intervals.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't collapse in a heap on the side of the road. And for once, I didn't feel that telltale agony pulsing through my veins. It actually felt, dare I say, good.

One thing's for sure, the layoff has done wonders for my emotional health. I mean, how could you believe otherwise? I actually thought it felt good to run last night. Crazy, I know. Sure, there are still lows, but they're far easier to combat in my new environment. The best part: I don't go grab a Pepsi anymore when I'm feeling down. Maybe I'll learn to go for a run instead.

The Non-Athlete

I am a minority. Or at least I think I am.

I am a non-athlete. Awkward, uncoordinated, physically incompetent and self-conscious about every move I make. I still cringe at the idea of physical competition simply because I know I cannot compete. And in trying, I will make a total fool of myself. That is for sure. It seems the only thing I've strengthened is my sense of humor.

It's not that I don't have the will. As a high schooler, I yearned to excel in basketball and tennis. When I finally wore out a permanent seat on the bench, I turned to cheerleading. Oddly enough, I was pretty good, even with my athletic inability. So, I know there is a glimmer of hope ... even if it is circa 1998.

My newest endeavor? To become a runner. Hilarious, I know. I hated my legs as a cheerleader, but would just about kill for them today! After neglecting my fitness for far too long, it seems running may be the only hope to get jumpstarted on a path to shopping for smaller sizes.

But for someone who seemed to be much better at cheering for the athletes than becoming one myself, taking on any form of exercise is like trying to conquer a mountain -- a big one. Just getting started running and working out again is a big deal, especially having spent 28 years floundering for some sense of athleticism and usually failing quite miserably.

So, I will chronicle my journey here, conquering my everyday, ordinary mountains. What I have to report may not seem like much to folks that come by fitness naturally, but even a small victory is a victory. Here we go ...