Several weeks ago I noticed I’d been marking off fewer and fewer successes on my weekly goals. I was writing less, I hadn’t done anything with music, and the book I’d borrowed from a friend still sat unfinished on my nightstand. My big idea for a new photography project had yet to get off the ground despite significant hype on my part. How disappointing, I thought — once again, a miracle strategy for keeping myself on task had failed. One Task, One Stone had proven no more likely to help me thrive than any other system.

Jar of StonesOr had it?

I looked again at my jar of stones. It was still three-quarters of the way full. That part stood out in my mind: three-quarters of the way full. I may have gotten off track recently, but unlike any other task management system I’d tried, my progress was still there. It was just like a video game I hadn’t played for a while — when I logged back in, I would still be at the exact same level where I’d left off.

Look how far you’ve come, I told myself. You are getting really close to Level 12! I thought about what would happen when I filled that jar and got my reward, then started a new one with Level 13 at  the bottom. I would never go back to Level 1 on this journey.

Back in September I wrote about One Task, One Stone and why I thought it was brilliant. My version of the system connects to my weekly goal sheets, which outline how much of any given task (relaxing with my husband, playing the piano, writing/revising, reading great fiction, etc.) I want to engage in every week. It awards one stone for each day I do that activity within the range I’ve set. So if I want to play the piano 3-5 days per week, I’ll get a stone every day up to and including the fifth day I play. Once I hit three, I’ll get a two-stone bonus for meeting my minimum goal. The genius of this is that it incorporates a leveling system — already familiar to someone who plays video games — into everyday life. It introduces the urge to level up by completing just one more objective, and then just one more, to real-life task completion.

Goal Sheet December 2011Such is how I’ve come to reach Level 11.

The true value of this system didn’t hit me until months later, when in a moment of discouragement I looked at my jar and was surprised to realize all of my stones were still there. I hadn’t lost a single thing.

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to keep perspective on the big picture. I always tell people that “learning disability” is actually a misnomer. School-based learning, with its structure and concrete expectations, can be the easy part for someone relatively bright. It’s real life that becomes a challenge. But even if you don’ t suffer from any kind of disability or disorder, I’m sure you’ve experienced a time when you lost track of how far you’d come. It’s easy to think that just because things haven’t been going well lately, they’re not going well at all.

One Task, One Stone has given me a much-needed visual anchor to help keep perspective on my progress. It helps remind me that most progress is never really lost, just slowed.

How do you keep track of your accomplishments? What keeps you on track and helps boost your confidence?

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I used to fight my piano. After years of having it easy on instruments with which I was naturally gifted, after years of being such a big fish in a small pond I never needed practice outside of rehearsals to keep up, the piano felt daunting. I struggled to learn each phrase, and when my fingers finally marched their way through I would bang the notes out triumphantly and without finesse. For just a brief moment, I had tamed the piano.

PianoOver the past few months, I’ve had to master a few of life’s challenges in much the same way. I’ve struggled to find my way and marked each success with a clumsy and bombastic victory march. I speak figuratively here, but not so much as you may think.

Despite (or maybe because of) my struggle to figure it out, I’ve always regretted not learning to play the piano as a child. Incidentally, though, on meeting my recent challenges I remembered the pillar of support I’d turned to in my youth: music.

Suddenly, my time at the piano became an escape, not a struggle. Now I’m beginning to channel that same feeling I got when I was learning the flute, my most natural instrument — it’s like learning to speak a new language. My fingers let me talk to the piano now, and even though I stumble from time to time there are moments when I find myself lost in it. Speaking without thinking, the first mark of fluency. I can forget my native tongue and sing a brand new song.

Too often we say we are wrestling with something. Struggling. We forget that the best path is discovered by learning the language. Closing our eyes for a second, finding the rhythm, and letting the right words, the right thoughts, the right notes come out. Growing up near a sizable river, I was taught that to escape an eddy you never fight back to the surface. You find the current and follow it down to the bottom, then turn downstream and swim out to safety.

So don’t struggle. Open your heart, find the song, and let your fingers show you the right notes to play.

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A couple of months ago I engaged in a side project of sorts. It was no big deal, really — I just volunteered to perform in the choir for a few nights during Single Carrot Theatre’s run of Church. I paraded out, sang for about two minutes, then disappeared.

BUT. But.

But I had forgotten, having been away for so many (eight!) years, what it feels like to be in front of a real audience. I had forgotten how everything disappears, how backstage nerves evaporate under the lights and how I enter a different world. There’s no other way to that world, and it’s the only place where I feel 100% calm, free, at peace…at home. Whether the performance itself is good or bad, that feeling never changes.

I’m in love with performing, you see. But I’m also a sucker for unrequited love, and that’s why it’s been eight years.

Why? Because love is scary. When we first met, I felt comfortable loving my husband because I felt sure he would stay in love with someone else. I’d never have to go out on a limb with my feelings. I won’t even touch on the rich storylines of the gay best friends who’ve shared my life.

Love — romantic, friendly, or otherwise — is scary because to engage your feelings fully, to express yourself in words and actions, you have to take a risk. You have to accept the possibility of failure. Of loss.

In ninth grade, I had already printed the full application to Berklee School of Music. I wanted to spend the next three and a half years securing my acceptance into their music performance program. But somewhere along the line, someone told me I would have to work harder than I realized. I would no longer be the big fish in the small pond. I would have to practice for eight hours a day to keep up with my peers, who would all be at least as talented as I was. I glimpsed a life devoid of writing or drawing or photography, and probably a distinct possibility that I didn’t have what it took to land a spot in a world-class symphony orchestra. By tenth grade, I had decided to become something else when I grew up.

At face value, this can seem like lack of ambition, but I think a lot of us are frightened by how much we love our true craft. It feels like that rush of unrequited emotion when we are in love with our best friend. There’s a place we feel like we belong, but reaching out and trying to seize that place also means risking everything. Sometimes it’s easier to nurse a longing in our hearts than to learn we don’t audition well or we’re too old or something else about us just won’t cut it.

Eventually, though, I came clean with my husband. As you may have guessed, he responded with “me too.”

In my last post I wrote about the dedication, the falling down and getting back up again, required before we can take our big leap. It’s no less difficult to take the leap itself and give or craft a chance to say “me too.”

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I need to be famous.

So I wrote in a journal at age 13. And probably 14, 15, and 16. Looking back, my yearning probably had nothing to do with fame and notoriety. It had everything to do with the rush of emotion I felt when, after sneaking back into the auditorium after orchestra rehearsals, I stood at center stage and looked out over the empty seats. I imagined every one full. I imagined myself singing my own songs.

We all have a vision of ourselves when we close our eyes. For me it oscillates between early-morning writing or photo editing over coffee in my home office and sharing a stage with someone truly fantastic.

It’s important to remember, though, that these visions aren’t necessarily our fates. Becoming the people — the artists — we believe we’re meant to be takes hard work and discipline. Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions, and sometimes we have to be brave. It takes more than the feeling of need we write down in our journals.

So what ever came of my dream of singing my own songs onstage? I still fear that my songs won’t be good or someone will tell me I can’t sing. Even though I’d still love to be cast in a play, I fear it’s too late to learn the acting skills I’d need.

leapRecently, I attended a wedding with a good friend who loves to dance. I always experience a bit of anxiety around the dancing portion of a wedding because, as I told my friend, I’m a pretty poor dancer. In response to this she told me “the only way to be a bad dancer is to care. If you don’t care, you can’t be bad.” There’s probably a limit to this theory, but the difference between holding back and going for it wholeheartedly is what separates greatness from mediocrity.

In the most recent season of So You Think You Can Dance, Melanie (who went on to win) did a dance with all-star Neil that had everyone talking about that leaphow she abandoned all fear and lept what seemed like the entire length of the stage into Neil’s arms.

Every artist can learn from that leap. Not just the decisive moment, allowing ourselves to fall from the precipice and abandon ourselves to our dreams, but the discipline it takes to get to the edge in the first place. You don’t start with the leap. You start with an exaggerated step, then keep increasing the distance as you get stronger and braver. Achieving that moment — the one that gives everyone chills — requires discipline, dedication, and a willingness to make tough choices to make and keep your work a top priority. Then it requires a lot of faith and a big leap.

As we get older, we risk holding back more, putting more into the “should haves” list. Don’t do that. Take advantage of the fact that you only become more comfortable with yourself as years go by and start taking more risks. Remember you will only fail if you get care too much what you look like.

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A week or two ago I had a Great Idea. I started taking vigorous notes (even a Great Idea gets forgotten quickly if I don’t write it down) and feeling antsy to get the ball rolling. I wanted to ask for support, buy a domain name, write a business plan. Hasty? Sure. But the opportunity to change the creative landscape was not going to last forever!

keysThen I thought better of it and kept the idea a secret. Having good ideas is like buying a gun for me: I need a waiting period to make sure everything is going to be okay.

See, I struggle with followthrough. The rush of a new idea floods my senses and I buy a domain name, create a Facebook fan page, tell a bunch of people. Then I lose interest and let it die. Seeing my fan page with only six people on it takes the wind out of my sails. The world not rushing to meet my wild enthusiasm makes it hard to keep up the voracious energy I need to succeed. These days, when I have an idea I care about, I apply the same rule I’ve heard about buying shoes: wait at least a week to make sure you’re still in love with them.

Creative projects are, I think, best kept under wraps in their nascent stages. They need time to take root free of outside influence. Think about it: how much do you know about yourself besides what others have told you? There’s a reason you don’t tack your work up on the wall for an intense critique during the first week of class in art school. If you let others’ voices speak as loud as your own before your project even gets off the ground, you’ll never know what you would have made of it.

Of course, it’s natural to seek feedback for our work. It’s essential. An artist without an honest and capable critic will never grow. However, it’s all too easy to seek feedback for validation, like waiting for a laugh after a joke or a gesture of solidarity after an argument. And perhaps rightfully so. Embarking on a new project is a risk: we have to be willing to invest a lot of ourselves and proudly show off that investment to the world. We have to hope others agree that its worth what we put into it.

But that risk — the commitment to go for it based on your own passion, not your Twitter followers or a Facebook fan page or your best friend — is what makes an idea worth pursuing. If it was never meant to get off the ground, that’s when you’ll find out. But if it’s good, you’ll be the envy of all your friends for your creative drive and inspiration once you get started in earnest.

So here’s to incubating! My waiting period is nearly over and I’m a little nervous to share my newest project with a friend this week. Wish me — and my idea — luck!

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patches and wall holes

Surprise! I’m still at home!

That’s what I’ve been telling myself (and my coworkers) for the past two days. Yesterday afternoon I hit a bit of a slump as I began to feel the full weight of our whole-house rewiring project: holes in the walls where the electricians had to fish wires. Cracks in the plaster from all the hammering, sawing, etc. Scuffs and scratches in the floors, along with plaster dust that won’t come up with a standard issue damp mop treatment. Displaced possessions everywhere. Clothes that are still itchy from fiberglass insulation despite being washed. Ceiling tiles missing from my living room and dining room.

displaced stuff

But what’s a girl to do? Sure, my physical space is vitally important to me, but so is this project. And in the end, I will have increased the living space in my home by about 30%, not to mention adding plenty of these suckers:

outlet

That’s right, bona fide three-prong outlets. And to underscore the outright opulence of my situation, I want to point out that this photo was taken in my upstairs hallway. The hallway! For someone who has suffered with a severe outlet shortage for over three years, that is more than I even know what to do with.

notebookI also discovered something else: when I removed myself from my job, which regularly challenges me and inspires/requires me to generate new ideas, it gave my brain space to work on something else. Similar to how I always come up with great ideas in the shower (there is literally no opportunity to distract myself with anything else), some exciting new ideas presented themselves to me by the end of my week at home.

I started a new short story. I drafted a piece of creative non-fiction to submit to the December Urbanite. I discovered what I wanted my first stab and non-profit organization leadership (at a micro scale) to be. I drafted mission statements for an organization that builds and supports a community of writers who love urban living. I made a plan to organize a regular literary reading for Baltimore writers that’s actually inside the city limits and in a transit-friendly location. I figured out (for now) how I want to join the movement to make this part of Baltimore a hub of creative activity.

So, I’ve been busy. I have a lot to write about. I have a lot to plan for and look forward to. Now is the toughest part because everything is torn asunder and nothing has started coming together in a real way quite yet. But I have to remember what one of my flute teachers told me when I was learning the highest register: to hit a high note and have it sound pure, you have to defy your intuition. Instead of stretching for it, you have to relax all of your muscles and hear it coming out perfect in your mind right before you go for it. Right now I’m on the cusp of hitting some amazing high notes, but I have to be careful not to get carried away by the lead-up and strangle them. It’s time to just relax and let it all come out right.

 

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office photo

My professional work space. Not doing too bad with dual workstations, a window, a big desk, and an awesome office mate.

Yesterday marked the first day of the work week…for everyone but me, that is. I’m trying my hand at this new trend they’re calling a “staycation.” I have a list of projects, enough coffee to hold me until Friday, an empty house, and…myself. Despite my anxiety on Thursday — my last day in the office for roughly a week and a half — and some unexpected challenges, the week is progressing surprisingly well.

I’m excited to take on some major home improvement projects, but I’m also trying my hand at something bigger. See, my long-term plans don’t necessarily include a 9-5 job. Like a lot of folks with art degrees, I fantasize on and off about liberation from outside pressure: moseying down the hall in the morning to write fiction over a cup of coffee in my sunny home office. Leaving town for a week of on-location photo work without worrying about accrued vacation time and how this might affect the trip we’re planning with friends next winter.

Working full-time is stressful. Sometimes I come home and all I want to do is curl up on the couch and watch My So-Called Life — pushing myself to be creative seems out of the question. So you’d think I have it made, right? Because when it’s time for us to add a +1 to our household, I’m planning to quit my job and become a full-time blogger, writer, photographer, and mother. I am incredibly fortunate to have a loving partner so able and willing to provide for our family in this way.

The thing is, though, I love my job. I love working. I love it so much more than it has ever worn me out. When I was unemployed for all of four weeks in 2007, I went stir crazy and asked to start my new job early after barely a week at home. Going to work has been a consistent source of pride, fulfillment, routine, and social outlets for me since age 14.

Most people savor time away from the office. I can’t get enough of the structure, the schedule, the interdependence, the quick thinking and problem solving. I love feeling challenged. I love feeling instrumental.

Maybe that’s why this week is going so well. I have clear goals. I know there is more work than there is week. I’m making tangible progress that I’m really proud of. When I work hard on the house, I also feel like writing. I’m finding a balance.

I can’t wait to reflect on everything I’ve accomplished at the end of the week. I hope I’ll look back on it and see it as a strong affirmation that when it comes time to manage my own life and break my tether to the office (at least for a while), I’ll be opening the door to huge creative successes. I’ll still have something exciting and engaging to talk about at cocktail parties. Instead of feeling desperate to return to work, I’ll feel energized to lay out a roadmap and make my own goals happen.

demo in progress

We’ll see. Right now I have a room full of broken plaster and possibilities, and it’s just a matter of seeing where the week takes me.

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Back in February, my good friend Matt  wrote about a new motivational tool on Hungry Gamer that I expected would change my life. He talked about gamification — layering game-like reward systems onto real-world situations (think credit card bonus points) — and explained how he’d created a system called One Task, One Stone.

The idea is simple. It requires a marker, a mason jar, and a few bags of glass stones. For each task completed, you place a stone in the jar. The genius twist here is, Matt drew lines on the side of the jar to give it levels. As he filled the jar with more stones, he “leveled up” at regular intervals. This captures beautifully the pre-existing relationship we have with games and uses the power of games to enhance our real-life productivity.

1 task 1 stone graphic

Image via Hungry Gamer

Our generation is the first to have really grown up with gaming. I endured threats from my father all throughout my young life that too much Game Boy and Super NES would most certainly give me tendonitis and cost me the use of my thumbs. Nowadays I dabble with the Wii and PS3 on occasion, but spend most of my gaming time playing World of Warcraft with friends online.

Sometimes it feels weird to be surrounded by adults who still spend a significant portion of their time gaming, but games are here to stay. Take One Task, One Stone as an example. The concept of a leveling system, where your character receives experience points (or XP) for completing objectives and levels up at predetermined experience point goals, already makes sense to me. I’ve read several books on productivity, organization, motivation, and/or time management. Despite their differing approaches, they all had one thing in common: I was learning new systems for structuring my life. I was internalizing new ideas and layering them on top of my current beliefs and habits.

The concept of progressing toward a goal by leveling up — and of receiving XP for successfully turning in a completed objective — was already in my head. I suspected that putting stones in a jar to gain levels would make me feel more pride and motivation around my real-life tasks, just like gaining levels in a game like World of Warcraft motivated me to keep playing. So when I found myself forgetting to check off objectives on my goal sheet every week — or just plain not completing any objectives to check off — I revisited Matt’s idea.

Stones and JarThe initial investment was very low: I repurposed a spaghetti sauce jar and used a marker I already had to make my container, then bought four or five bags of stones on sale for $0.89 each at Michael’s.

Instead of using my to-do list as a guide, I took a look at my weekly goal sheet. I decided to award one stone for each item I checked off, plus a two-stone bonus for completing a weekly objective. For example, I fell off the wagon with my writing practice, so I set a goal to write 3-4 days per week. I’d get a stone for every day I wrote, plus two bonus stones on the third day because I’d met my goal. To keep things in balance, I also decided not to award stones past the maximum number I’d written down, so I’d get a stone for the fourth writing day but not the fifth. I could always up my goal for the next round if I felt I wanted to spend more time on it long-term, but I wanted to make sure I was encouraging myself to hit on those easily-forgotten tasks, like cleaning out my email inbox.

Of course, I needed a reward for reaching level 12 at the top of my jar. Something I’d wanted for a long time. Something that would feel like a real victory and remind me on a daily basis what great things I was capable of.

Task List with GoalsThat something, it turns out, is a new couch for my living room. Sure, we’re getting some new furniture when we finish the basement. Sure, we’re spending a lot of money on the house. Sure, for some reason my husband still loves our couch even though it only seats two people and the arm feels like you’re leaning against a two-by-four. For all these reasons (and probably more), a new couch hasn’t really been in the cards for me.

Until now. Each new level on my jar brings me one level closer to that 12 at the top and one level closer to my dream couch. Silly though it may sound, having a nice couch is important to me, especially in the winter. The right couch can make a home seem so inviting, so cozy and warm and safe. When I curl up to watch a movie or read a book or talk to a good friend over a glass of wine, I want to be reminded of how I earned something I’d wanted for a very long time, and how good that felt.

I’ve been doing One Task, One Stone for two weeks now, and I’ve noticed a dramatic change already. During the previous week I had only met two of my weekly goals. I immediately jumped to three goals met the next week, and this week I expect to have met at least five. When I reach a stopping point on one task or activity, instead of wasting time on Facebook or gravitating to the path of least resistance (ironically, often playing more video games) I take a look at my weekly goal sheet. I think about what I could do right then to help make sure I not only get more stones for that day, but meet a weekly goal to get my two-stone bonus.

Right now, I am at level 4 and I feel much more satisfied with how I’m spending my time and energy. I’m also keeping my eye on the prize and giving careful thought to my goals when I set them. Setting reasonable and meaningful goals no longer feels arbitrary. It helps ensure my success at obtaining my reward as soon as possible.

couch

For now, this is what success looks like.

If you’re interested in trying this out, I highly recommend you read Matt’s original post with a more detailed explanation of the concept. He invites you to tweak it and expand on it as you wish, and so do I. Share your results. Keep working toward that prize. And don’t forget to put recharging time on your to-do list ;-)

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If you’re reading this, I am rejoicing in my heart — I am so glad to have my blog back online after almost two weeks of down time.

For those of you wondering where I’ve been, the site fell victim to a hacking attack just before Labor Day weekend. After taking a few stabs at fixing the issue with the site still online, I made a decision to take it down for security reasons while we sorted the whole thing out.

Thanks entirely to my very helpful and talented husband, we isolated the vulnerability, corrected it, and restored my site content from a backup.

It’s a lesson people learn every day: always have a good backup. Always.

Anyway, I’m just delighted to be back and able to share what I’ve been up to. On the near horizon: new creative spaces, massive home improvement projects, finally finding a direction for a major photography project I’ve had in the works for three years, and a fancy new motivational tool courtesy of one of my most amazing friends.

For now, I must bid you adieu as I prepare for my last day at work for over a week. I’m taking some time off to tackle a couple of major projects around the house — and I’m sure post lots of exciting updates along the way. I’m hoping to collect some great ideas for flexible creative spaces in an average-size house and share what I come up with in the end. For now you can enjoy the photo to the right, which I took while testing out an impromptu portrait station in my newly-cleaned-out basement!

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I’ve been dealing with a lot of site hacking issues lately, so I’m posting from my phone/iPad until further notice. For the most part this is just fine, but I do apologize if things aren’t always as pretty as they could be — I’m writing all the HTML myself, and a busy girl can only do so much.

Anyway, I was having dinner with my mother and sister recently and my sister said “who even likes Lady Gaga, anyway?” I always have a pretentious response to such commentary, but to my surprise my mom replied, “I do. She was on the Howard Stern Show and did a song with just her and the piano and it was amazing.”

Lady Gaga has never been just another pop star to me — she is doing smart things with her music, and she can hold her own on a stage with just a piano and a microphone. I don’t begrudge any pop star the right to produce hit songs, but live performance is my litmus test for applying the “artist” label. These videos underscore that point and provide a fascinating window into Lady Gaga’s world.

Here is the Howard Stern appearance my mother was referring to:

I’ve never been to one of her live shows, but it’s clear that even audiences at massive festival venues get to experience an entirely different side of the radio hits. These performances are so deeply felt, and eventually it becomes clear that this — this raw feeling at a piano somewhere — is where the songs started. This is what they were before they were produced in the studio and turned into #1 hits.

This last one is the most personal for me. There is something very intimate and stunning about it, and it reminded me that Lady Gaga is, in her heart, still one of those weird theatre students we all met (or were) in college. I don’t know about you, but the few evenings I was lucky enough to spend with them were some of the most sincere and memorable nights of my early 20s. Watching this video, it’s easy to forget you’re looking at a pop megastar with several prestigious awards and guinness world records under her belt.

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