Month: September 2007

Life

The shape of lives

Christa Avampato

We have choices in every moment. I decide what time to get up, I decide when to leave for work, I decide what route to drive, I decide what to eat for breakfast. These are the mundane choices of my life on weekday mornings.

And there are choices like whether or not to accept a dinner invitation, to go to a party with a friend even if I know no one else who will be there, to volunteer with an organization, to attend a reading by a favorite author at Barnes and Noble. And some times I choose to stay in, give myself a facial, shut off my phone, get out my yoga mat, and light a candle.

I am becoming particularly conscious of my decisions to do, or not to do, things. Mostly because there are a million options in New York, and I have a great crew of friends here to do things with. And so sometimes my calendar is overly stuffed with activities. I struggle with this. I wear myself out over it. I have a hard time saying no to doing something fun for the sake of getting to bed early or just staying in to take time for myself. I am terrified of missing out, even if I don’t have the foggiest idea what I may be missing out on. I like hearing stories, and to hear stories, we must get out there in the world and listen and move and be open to taking it all in.

Flora Whittemore was an author and historian, the oldest living citizen of Caribou County, Idaho. Surprisingly little info is available about her. The only information I could find on her seems to suggest that she lived to a ripe, old age. Which is to say I believe she discovered more about life than I have thus. Yet, she is quoted for one very simple sentence on hundreds of web pages. The very simple wisdom that “The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.” It’s about choices.
I have this terrible habit of thinking that life happens to me. Quotes like Ms. Whittemore’s snap me back to reality. It doesn’t happen to me. I choose to open and close opportunities and meetings and experiences, and those choices have shaped my life, made it possible for me to have this life. Life didn’t happen to me; rather, I made my life happen. And while that’s scary if I really think about it – I own all of the success, and also all the failures, of my life – it’s also quite empowering to think that my simple, everyday choices create what collectively becomes my life.

Now, the enormity of this opening and closing of doors could be daunting, even paralyzing. I hate shutting doors truly. I think, well if I just leave this door, this option open a bit longer, maybe something incredible will come of it, so I better not turn away just yet. What the quote doesn’t bring to light is that leaving each of the doors open takes some energy, some amount of time. And our lives have a set amount of time. We have a limited amount of energy, even the most energetic of us.

I think about it in terms of a financial investment – if we perfectly hedge, then net net we come out even, no loss, but no gain either. Leaving doors open is the same way. If we never close a door, then we never have the time or energy to open new ones and play out the option behind each to its full potential. To be sure the opening and closing can be joyful and painful, and sometimes, it’s both. In case, often it’s both.

I recently rediscovered a CD I have loved for years – Hymns from the 49th parallel by k.d. lang. my favorite track is “Love is everything.” It’s also about opening and closing doors. She talks about a love that she gave her all to, and then ultimately had to give up. “Love was everything they said it would be. Love makes sweet and sad the same….I can’t wait for you to make the whole kingdom come, so I’m leaving.”

Opening and closing doors is a deeply personal decision, and I would argue that it is the most important thing we ever do. Whether it’s about a job, about love, about friendship, about where we live. Big and small choices. Decision making is an art that cannot be cultivated enough. We are sculptors, photographers, painters, dancers. And the body of our work is played out everyday in who we are, where we go, and how we spend our time.
Life

Take a note

Christa Avampato

So after months of anticipation and hopefully exiting from my apartment building, I finally have a date with Hottie Neighbor (going forward noted as H.N.) You may remember him from a previous post. He helped me move into my apartment when it was 100 degrees outside, and I thought my poor stepfather may just pass out.

In the months since I’ve been here I have occasionally seen him as we pass one another coming and going from the building. He has mentioned we should get a drink, though has been reluctant to just ask me out. Patience in these matters, or rather game playing, is something I have no time for. So with some nudging from my wise friend, Catherine (who incidentally is also my neighbor), convinced me that I needed to leave H.N. a note. Several weeks ago, I saw H.N. and he said I should just pick a place and time and he’d be there. So I picked a time.

It is also important to point out that normally I am not the least bit shy with men, regardless of how good-looking they are. H.N. is a different story. I literally end up tongue-tied. Babbling something I have not thought through. And I also always manage to be doing some glamorous task like taking out the trash every time he sees me. My hair is invariably in 10 different directions. What a mess. Apparently, he has not yet been scared off.

It is also worth saying that I have already gone so far as to imagine knocking down the sealed door that separates our apartments so we can have one great living space. I have also taken that a step further and imagined that my landlord will retire and we can buy the whole darn building to populate with my favorite friends. It’s really a lovely fantasy.

I saw H.N. on my way out today and I asked him if he had a favorite place in the neighborhood. He suggested we have dinner instead of just drinks. He chose Gabriella because it has great margaritas. So 7:30pm, Sunday night. I am going to knock on his door and off to dinner we’ll go. Great.

And then I go on my way, completely panicked. My friend Steve (who tauts himself as “almost a gay man” because he watches Sex in the City nightly, and likes it) and I had already planned my outfit. For a drink only! Now we are expanding that to dinner. This changes everything. So I call Steve back. “Now what do I do?” He needs some time, and needs to consult his wife, Lianne, on the issue. He’ll get back to me on wardrobe choice.

So for now, I am seated at my dining table, typing on this keyboard, and staring at the door that separates me from H.N. Maybe Sunday night will be the night I find my good pal to be in the world with…

Life

Omigod you guys (have to see this show)

Christa Avampato

As a general rule, I am not a huge fan of musicals. Mostly because the spontaneous bursting into song is sort of annoying, the acting is usually not fantastic, and the story is mostly contrived. They’re also expensive, which goes against my miserly ways. Yes, I made quite a bit of money working for musical theatre companies and loved my time doing that. I picked the few good shows I really liked. And though I’ve seen a few since I exited the industry, none have really jumped out at me the way Cabaret or The Full Monty did.

On Sunday, I changed my tune (pardon the pun). My dear friend, Amy, came into town and wanted to see Legally Blonde. Are you kidding me, I thought. Legally Blonde? And spend money to see it? She was persuasive. We’ve worked with Jerry Mitchell before, and L.B. is his directorial debut. Luckily for my wallet, the show was at TKTS for the Sunday evening performance. We had awesome seats in the mezz, center, for $65. I was skeptical. Amy was not.

From the moment the stage manager came over the PA and told us to not photos, I was hooked. Seriously, you guys. It was amazing and you HAVE to see it. The cast belted out some of the funniest lyrics I’ve ever heard, they had heart, they could ALL act and sing. And they were working every moment they were on stage. There wasn’t a single weak link. The story was funny and sweet, some parts even sad, all in a very genuine way. I would have paid double for the ticket and been just as thrilled.

I woke up the next morning still smiling when thinking about the show, and I have caught myself humming the music once or twice. This is extremely rare – I hum constantly, but I NEVER hum show tunes. I love the show so much, I may go buy the sound track. And I NEVER by soundtracks to musicals.
So run over to see it. When it tours to your city, make sure to make room in your schedule for little Miss Woods comma Elle. Wear pink. Practice your “bend and snap”. And make sure your cheeks are in tip top shape – you’ll be smiling so much it will hurt.

Life

Grief’s cure

Christa Avampato

I read a quote today from Elbert Hubbard. I have no idea who this is, though I really appreciate his sentiment. “The cure for grief is motion.” I was particularly struck by this after watching the coverage of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s visit to the U.S. and the protests by Buddhist monks in Burma. To alleviate pain, suffering, and frustration, people strike out. The grief becomes so overwhelming that containing it becomes an insurmountable task.

But there is a different kind of grief that also inspires action. I am thinking about friends of mine who want more from life. My friend, Amy, who is in town for a visit and so incredibly gifted in negotiation and passionate about peaceful resolutions to international conflicts. My friend, Rob, who saw such a need for healing in our society and such a lack of available resources for people to use in their journey to healing that he just returned to graduate school to study social work. There is grief in watching complacency when we know that was is needed in transformation.

The need for re-invention of our daily lives is a constant, and must be at the forefront of our minds all the time. So often we wait for the New Year, or our birthdays, or some other mile marker. Really what we need to do is see every day we have as a time to remake parts of our lives that we wish were different. Wishing for change is also a form of grief. We need to see every day as a call to action. Imagine a world like that….

Life

Laughing out loud, and in front of others

Christa Avampato

My friend, Ken, and I share the same reverence for sarcasm. I envy Ken because he doesn’t only revere it, he has a wit quick enough to actually use it effectively in the moment. I am one of those people who walks away from a situation and a moment later thinks of some perfect retort, only after the time to use it has passed. It’s very frustrating.
Ken’s work situation is less than ideal. He is the highest performer on his team, and yet is grossly underpaid for his talents and productivity. His CEO recently made a remark that she didn’t know if everyone could get raises this year because they make too many color copies. Ken couldn’t contain himself. He began laughing out loud, in front of the crowd. And the CEO was completely disarmed, and soon everyone in the room was laughing.

The same day that Ken was recounting this story to me, I read a quote about laughter by Bob Hope. “I have seen what a laugh can do. It can transform almost unbearable tears into something bearable, even hopeful.” And this started me thinking about how underutilized laughter is. The relief it provides. The truth it reveals (a la the color copies). The changes it can set in motion.

I’m not sure why laughter isn’t used as a tool more often. Why do we often resort to arguing during a conflict. Can laughter be wielded as expertly and with as great an impact? Is there humor to be found in even the gravest situation. I’m not at all suggesting that our nation approach its foreign relations by making world leaders laugh. To be certain there is a place and time for laughter. I’m just wondering if that place exists more often than we allow it to.

If re-invention and transformation is what we seek, can we allow laughter to do some of the heavy lifting as Bob Hope suggested? Can laughter, especially at unexpected times, be the catalyst for imagining the world around us in a way that we could not access otherwise? There are more pathways to enlightenment that we realize.
Life

Maggie or a drowned rat?

Christa Avampato

When I think of myself in the world, I always imagine that my make-up is on perfectly, that every hair is in place, that I’ve got on just the right outfit. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in a store window as I stroll by feeling confident and realize I am a disaster. Without fail, my hair is flipping all over the place, and I have spilled something down the length of my shirt. Lovely.

But is that right? Is it possible that if I imagine I look great, then I can somehow alter reality? Maybe…

A few weeks ago New York was inundated with some pretty horrible rains. It was absolutely pouring, morning ’til night. The subway flooded out, the roads were covered in 6 inches of water, heavy fog. A commuter’s nightmare. And also a nightmare for my hair, which has a mind of its own anyway.

I got to my destination, shook out my umbrella and rain coat. Replaced my rain shoes with heels, and headed to the cafe for some coffee. I bumped into a woman in the elevator who I don’t see very often though I see her in passing. It so happened that I ran into her again later on in the day and the first thing she said to me was “when I saw you this morning, you looked like a drowned rat.” And she says this in front of my friends! I was mortified. On of my friends, being the gracious and kind man that he is, and probably sensing just a hint of embarrassment on my part, quickly said, “I looked like a drowned rat too. It was pouring this morning.” End of conversation.

Now I will add here that I don’t think I looked like a rat at all, drowned or otherwise. And to be honest this woman has got to be one of the most unattractive people on Earth. Truly. And she’s not nice either, which I think adds to her lack of good looks.

That evening, I went out to meet my friend, Ian for dinner. He is a Chipotle fan, and I was more than happy to scarf down a burrito with him and catch up. Every time I go out with Ian it is usual to have people staring at us, constantly. And it has nothing to do with me. Ian is just gorgeous, right off the cover of a magazine. So when we were in Chipotle, I noticed, as usual, people staring at us. It turns out it was a friend of Ian’s, but that’s not why he was staring. He came over to the table, greeted Ian, and apologized for not coming over sooner. “I thought your beautiful friend was Maggie Gyllenhaal.” “Oh! You know, Christa, you do look like her,” Ian said.

Can you imagine? From a drowned rat to Maggie in just a matter of hours! And I didn’t even stop at home in between to tidy myself up. Maybe beauty really does live in the eye of the beholder.

Life

Good Pal Wanted

Christa Avampato

I am completely freaked out by the idea of marriage. Truly. Just looking at the word, I am beginning to feel a panic attack coming on. I love being in love, I love the idea of finding that one terrific guy who’s so fantastic that I could never imagine wanting to be with anyone else. I love imagining having a partner in life who’s supportive of even my wackiest ideas. I just can’t imagine that my sense of judgment is so amazing that I could pick, right now, the one person I’ll be happy with forever. And actually what I’m more worried about is how will he know that I’m the one he’ll be happy with forever. I’ve had relationships when I thought I found the right one, and then it seemed to fall apart for no reason at all. And it was heart-breaking, and awful, and I just don’t want to go through that again. I don’t think I can go through that again and come out of it a sane person. Or, at least these were all my fears until today when I read something that helped me start to turn the corner. Something that helped me to look at this fear with a little more courage, and say, “well, maybe you aren’t so scary after all….”

One of the columnists in the New York Times went shopping with Alice Waters at the Union Square Farmers Market. Waters is a restaurateur, chef, and advocated for supporting locally-grown agriculture. In the world of foodies, she’s legendary. She’s 63, and as the article points out, currently not in love. And then she added a really lovely comment that helped me see that marriage, or at least being in love a committed long-term relationship may not be so bad. “While not in love, she does wish she had a good pal to be in the world with.” And if in my mind I define “husband” in that way, it doesn’t seem quite so scary.

Truthfully, that is exactly what I’m looking for. I don’t need a husband to support me financially. I don’t need him to be my everything, and quite frankly, I would prefer he not be since I have many wonderful people in my life that fill a variety of roles quite well. And since I’m laying the honesty on thick in this post, I’m not 100% sure that I want children. I’m a good 50 / 50 on that one, so I’m not even looking for someone to be the ideal father-figure.

What I really want is someone I laugh with, someone who’s smart and helps me think clearly, someone who supports my crazy ideas and has fun in the process. A creative-bent would be nice. Ambitious, though doesn’t devote his entire being to his profession. It would help if he liked dogs. Scratch that – he has to like dogs. Cooking, or an interest in learning to cook would just be fantastic. And travel – I want someone who is in this world to be an adventurer. And yes, I need him to be good-looking. Sorry. I figured if I’m really going to send this wish out into the world, I might as well ask for everything I want. At the heart of it, Alice Waters is right – he needs to be a good friend to me as we figure out how to navigate this crazy world around us.

Life

"I’m a blender" and other sayings of note

Christa Avampato

My friend, Trevin, has recently moved to New York City after many years of imaging this place as the Garden of Eden. I understand – I’ve felt that way for the six years I have been away and I love being back here. During a recent conversation I was explaining to him that I had plans for a time he suggested we meet up to hang out, and invited him to come along. I gave him fair warning about the crowd he’d be meeting to which he replied, “oh don’t worry about me, Christa. I’m a blender.” To which I just burst out laughing.

And it’s true, Trevin, like me, is a blender. I know many of other people who are not – people I would never dream of introducing to friends from other chapters of my life. When someone asks “what kind of skills do you think I need to do X job”, being a blender is never something I’ve heard someone say before.

For years I’ve been hearing lots of funny, odd, and all-too-true sayings like Trevin’s and it’s high time I wrote them down. The following is a list of those (in addition to “I’m a blender”) that stopped me in my tracks, made me laugh, and also made me think.

“Bad design will haunt you forever.” My boss loves this one, and it’s so true. So many times we think up solutions and approaches to just get by. We’re so interested in doing that we don’t spend the time designing the best possible solution. We just want something in place so we feel like we’re moving forward. For example, let’s look at the state of New Jersey highways – could there be a worse design? Look at the bridge feed from NJ Route 4 onto the GW Bridge – hideous. Who imagines going from 6 lanes to two in a 100 foot stretch?

“Learn to talk to a wall.” I used to think small talk was overrated – now I’ve learned that small talk creates big connections. I’ve been undervaluing it for far too long. Small talk builds the beginnings of life-long relationships and connected us others. Through small talk we find our place in the world.

“Prepare for peace in a time of war.” I am so mad at Sun-Tzu for writing The Art of War. I’m even more mad at the people who revere it and take it out of context. So often I feel like preparing for war is the easy part. Preparing for and building a plan for maintaining peace is the hard stuff. Any schmo can demolish a bridge; it takes a real artist to build one that holds up over the years.

“Don’t invest in things that rust.” This another one of my boss’s favorites that he lives by, truly. He had one car for 18 years. Unbelievable. And this saying extends far beyond cars. Think about all the energy that we pour into lost causes or places where we know we can’t make an impact. Eventually it rusts out, and we move on. Imagine what we could do by redirecting that energy toward things like fine wine and a good quality leather coat that only get better with age.

“Be in it for the journey.” There’s something to be said for having a goal, and something to be said for taking interesting detours. And yes, you can do both.

“Live your life spherically, in many different directions.” Ever meet someone with a one-track mind? I never understand that. I used to envy those people who could be so singularly focused, mostly because I am the anti-thesis of them. And I would get down on myself when I felt like I was flailing and all over the place. Was my exploring getting in the way of my living? And after a few years, I could look back on the journey and see how it all connected, see how having my hands in a lot of different pots gave me a richer, more interesting spirit than I would have had otherwise. And I learned that the only really direction in life is a circle.

“The hardest thing on Earth is choosing what matters.” I used to frustrate myself with all of my competing interests. For a long time I have struggled with prioritizing different areas of my life. My romantic life, school, time for me, friends, family, career. And when I read this saying I felt a huge weight being lifted off of me. I thought everyone else instantly knew what was important and what wasn’t, and then just went about their lives. It turns out that deciding between competing interests is everyone’s struggle. We’re in this together, and to help one another figure this out.

“I believe in the goodness of imagination.” No explanation needed.

Life

The dishes will wait

Christa Avampato

I hate dirty dishes – the very thought of them makes me feel a little queasy. Probably because I worked as a dishwasher in a nursing home one summer because it was a job I could walk to from my home and I really needed the money. The only thing I hate more than dirty dishes in the sink is wasting a gorgeous day outside by doing menial, though necessary tasks around the house. Erma Bombeck said, “I hate mopping the floor. I spend all this time doing it, and then a month later I have to do it again.” I couldn’t agree more!

Today was one of those gorgeous days, and one of those days when I have a hundred menial tasks to do around my apartment. Tracking expenses, dropping off dry cleaning, cleaning my bathtub, and yes, doing today’s dishes. I just couldn’t pass up the chance for a nice long walk today. I walked 72 blocks to meet my friends, Katie and Monika, for lunch at The Cookshop. And even though there are still dishes in my sink and receipts to record in my excel spreadsheet, I just couldn’t stay inside today. I needed to get out, breathe deeply, and poke around my neighborhood Barnes and Noble for some writing inspiration. I also needed some exercise.

I saw little kids learning to play soccer in the park, dogs and their owners jogging. Friends greeting one another, and catching up. It helped me count my blessings while making up for the 500 calories I was about to consume on a yummy, sumptuous lunch. It did my heart good to see my friends, and recognize, acknowledge, and honor the happiness that is all around us, peeking out from every nook and cranny of our world. For that, yes, the dishes will wait.

Life

Why a kindergardner can achieve more than an MBA

Christa Avampato

I recently watched a talk by Peter Skillman, Director of New Product Development for Palm, Inc. I love him – mostly because he helped create my new Palm Smartphone that I am totally in love with because it keeps me so organized. And I love being organized. I wonder how in the world I lived without this thing. And Peter says we have only scratched the surface of possibility with this device – I can hardly wait to see what these things will do next! Also, he confirmed my underlying suspicion that kindergartners are smarter than MBAs.

Now, I have an MBA, and so do many of my friends. And I can say from my gut, I think getting an MBA asks us to temporarily lose a part of ourselves that is critical to our success. Peter Skillman has done an experiment with various groups, all around the country. The assignment goes like this – build the tallest structure possible that can support the weight of a marshmallow using only 18 pieces of spaghetti and one meter of tape. The highest average height – kindergartners. the lowest average height – MBAs. He’s got data to show this – data that even the most analytical MBA could not falsify. Sorry b-schoolers. I am one of you – so I am equally embarrassed. I’m not laughing at you – I am laughing with you.

So why does this happen? We are all in kindergarten once. What happened? And he noticed something very interesting – kindergartners dug right in. They worked together, imagined the impossible. A structure as tall as the Empire State Building. Yeah – let’s do it! MBAs – they spent half their time figuring out who would be CEO and the President of the Tape Cutting Division. Divide up every piece of the project, set benchmarks for progress, monitor the spaghetti budget, play it safe, what is everyone else doing? Kindergartners focused on the actual need – supporting the marshmallow. MBAs focused on beating others around them. Kindergartners approached the task without any fear of failure. MBAs would never even think of disgracing themselves with failure at such a simple task.

It turns out that the shorter the design cycle, the more important it is to failure as soon as possible in order to succeed sooner. Who knew? We did – we all did. When we were 5, and at 25 we have completely erased that intuition.

There is a video on YouTube that is the depiction of Apple’s ad campaign in the 1980’s. “A Salute to the Crazy Ones.” If you’ve never seen it, you need to. Actually, if you’ve never seen it, stop reading this blog right now, and click the following link. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUfH-BEBMoY. Because the crazy ones who think they can change the world (or build the tallest spaghetti structure to support a marshmallow), do.

The photo above is the sole property of Apple.