My dad drives me crazy. Not in an endearing, “Oh, Daaaad” TV-sitcom kind of way. More like a he-makes-me-want-to-punch-a-hole-in-a-wall feeling.
Every year, I dread Father’s Day. Friends post sweet photos and memories on Facebook of their fathers. They talk about the lessons their dads have taught them, how their dads inspire them, and how their dads are their best friends.
I have nothing like that to share. And it hurts.
It’s 5:30 in the morning. I’m in my basement staring bleary-eyed at my laptop, and I’m sweating—a lot—as I do my best to follow an online workout video.
After completing a particularly grueling set of exercises, the instructor takes a quick break on her mat. She catches her breath and says, “I don’t enjoy that. Not at all.”
The moment makes me laugh because it is exactly what I was thinking. It also inspires me because right after the instructor says this, she launches into another set of challenging moves.
This is Jenn Jordan and For the Glow.
A few weeks ago, an acquaintance of mine named Michael sent me a message asking if we could get together and cook.
He wrote, “One of my favorite ways to get to know someone is to learn how to cook something.”
It was an unexpected and lovely invitation to connect.
One of my goals for 2013 was to read at least one new book a month–which I’m happy to report I did! While taking a look back at what I read, I noted that my first three books of the year were all memoirs.
Wael Ghonim’s “Revolution 2.0” charts how he utilized social media to play a major role in the 2011 Tahrir Square protest movement in Egypt. In “Breaking Up With God,” Sarah Sentilles discusses faith, theology, and her ordination process to become an Episcopal priest.
The third memoir was “Fresh Off the Boat” by Eddie Huang. It’s the story of Eddie’s life–how he grew up, and went from being a drug dealing thug to lawyer to streetwear mogul to Food Network cooking show competitor to restaurant owner.
When I was in graduate school, I had a professor who limited our presentations to 8 PowerPoint slides and 10 minutes. It was a challenge to do this, but I appreciated how it made me more disciplined about what I included in my talk. And the images had to pack a punch.
It will be interesting to see what choices the presenters make at Pecha Kucha Night on December 5.
It was Christmas 1980, and the Sears in my town had a huge window display featuring an elaborate train set, giant teddy bears, a wondrous assortment of dolls, and many other toys. In the center of this marvelous tableau was a little yellow typewriter.
I was only 5 and could barely read, but I wanted that typewriter with every fiber of my being. When I visited Santa, the only thing I asked for was the typewriter. And on Christmas morning, it was sitting under the tree. It was like something out of the movies. A dream realized. A wish granted.
When adults asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say engineer or doctor because that’s what my parents hoped, but I really wanted to be a writer. Continue reading