Comedy Club Hour

I had a ball today. I interviewed a group of senior men for an article I'm writing. All told, there were about 30 men ages 55-75 milling around as I did my interview. Charmers, every one of them.  Some refused a handshake and insisted on a hug. I would find such a demand insulting from males in the 30-50 age range, but was happy to oblige in this case. (What is that "magic age" when being called "honey" and "young lady" by men and being hugged by them transforms from lawsuit to acceptable?) Others were solicitous, asking several times if they could bring me anything to drink and after the interview I was invited to join a group for lunch. Unfortunately, I had other commitments and had to decline.

It was like comedy club hour. No sooner did I ask a question and start to receive a reply when 5 men would rush forward with the warning not to believe a word coming out of so and so's mouth. Lots of loud, good-natured ribbing. And underneath it all, a true sense of friendship and camaraderie emanating from the group.

It was a delight to be in their presence. My challenge now is piecing together my fragmented notes into a coherent piece! But a lovely way to kick off the afternoon.

Why Must I Be Organized?

There is a huge pile of crap sitting on my desk. Bank statements, handouts from last weeks class that need to be three-holed punched, a newspaper clipping I want to send to a friend, a magazine with the perfect job opening for another friend, a tape recorder, a book I just finished reading, my cell phone, random scraps of paper with notes about current projects scribbled on them, about 8 paper tablets (a writer's best friend) and probably chocolate crumbs from the protein bars I've been eating all week.

The goal is to get the crap off the desk and organized so I can start the working week fresh tomorrow. I don't know why, but I have a block on chaos. I literally convince myself I can't work unless my desk is cleared and everything is filed, labelled, and put away. Same with the house. How can I write a word if there is laundry in the washer waiting a transfer to the dryer? How can one expect to be creative when there is dust on the end table?

Sheesh. Enough already. I kind of like the idea of being the kooky creative type who can look into a pile of debris and put her hand on the exact memo that she needs and go right on working. But I have what I call the "clean-slate syndrome." I'm convinced every project will go better if I start with a clean-slate. No little details or projects waiting to be attended. Knock the small stuff out so there is a clean-slate to focus on the big-picture items. Of course, any first year psych student can diagnose that the small stuff will never disappear, meaning the big picture projects will forever be pushed off.

Is therapy the answer? Chocolate? Or maybe I just forbid myself from clearing off my desk for a week and see what comes of it. I'll consider that. Next week. When I can start the messy desk experiment with a clean slate.

Read This & Feel Good

My neighbor's 79 year-old mother just received her high school diploma. I don't know the full story, but she had to drop out of school around age 14 or 15, I think to help with income and the family. But she always felt bad that she'd never graduated high school and so decided at the age of 77 that she'd do something to change that. So she's been taking GED courses and just finished her last one. She walked across the stage at the community college graduation ceremony to receive her diploma. Her kids were cheering the loudest.

How's that for a warm fuzzy to start your day? Personally, I'm inspired. She's not planning on doing anything with the diploma, but it was important to her so she set a goal and accomplished it. At age 79. Makes me look at my own life and some things I've been hoping to accomplish but have taken no action toward. What's my excuse?

Fooling Everyone

So at what point in life do you feel like a grown-up?

A friend and I had a discussion centered on this the other day. This friend is a Director at an agency and we were talking about her workday. "If anyone had the slightest idea how I spend my day, I'm sure I'd be fired," she said.

It's not that she doesn't work hard. It's just that--like so many of us--she feels like she's "playing" grownup at work. "I ask for tens of thousands of dollars for a promotional event and they give it to me!" she says, amazed.  "Thank God the event turned out to be a success. One of these days I feel like they're going to catch on that I'm just making this stuff up as I go."

And this is a person who is very successful and admired in her field.

I haven't met a person yet who doesn't feel that way at some point in their career.  We just hope no one clues in to the fact that we still feel like a teenager in (ack--how did this happen??) a middle-aged adults body.

I feel that way about my friends with kids. I visit them and think, "Hey--look at that. They found a 7-year-old somewhere and let him hang around the house. How sweet." Perhaps more disturbing is the parents feel the same. "Sometimes we just look at them and our life and think, 'How in the WORLD...?', said friends of mine recently with several children.

I remember when I was young, I thought all grown-ups were all sure of themselves and knew exactly what they were doing. HA! Yet it's a useful illusion. No point in scaring the pants off a bunch of 5-year-olds with the knowledge that we're all just winging it here.