widening horizons.

by Liz on 02.15

 

Business things are suddenly shifting and changing and it makes me sort of queasy. Because sometimes, it feels like you’re doing a lot of work to inch things along. Lots of work to do all the lifting and pushing, just pretty much constantly.

And then other times, they pick up steam, or maybe you find a little stretch of downhill road, and they take off a bit by themselves. And even though they’re still on that track, things feel out of your control for just that short time.

I once read an article about female entrepreneurs and how common it is for women to draw themselves into a corner by being unwilling to flex and grow because they’re unwilling to allow things to grow out of their control.

I sort of, kind of, have done that, and while it may be overblowing things slightly to say that they’re spinning wildly out of control, I’m loosening my grip on the reigns- and it’s sort of scary.

Delegating is one sort of scariness. The kind that’s wrapped up in pride and only-I-can-do-it. And, relying on the actual art itself, and not some little shtick is another sort. The kind that’s wrapped up in self-doubt and I-can’t-do-it.

When I started painting cards, I figured, who the hell am I? In what I thought was very calculated realism, I figured no one would buy what I drew without some sort of, I don’t know, selling point? So I figured out how to do every single card individually hand-painted. Handmade! People like handmade. This way I wouldn’t have to worry about being as good/better than all of those other awesome, awesome stationery illustrators out there. I had something they didn’t!

But, by doing that, I painted (ha) myself into that corner. What growth is possible when I, personally, need to slave over every card myself? As I found out last Christmas, pretty much nada.

Then, we experimented with printing last year, and it was well-received. And now. Well, while it’s a little scary- I feel like the world is my oyster. I could basically paint… well, anything I want. Until now, I’ve been bound by things that I could make swiftly and replicate easily because I was focused on hand-painting every single one.

I’m no longer selling this sleight of hand trick of being able to replicate little hand-painted drawings every time someone orders up a card. Now, it’s all about art. And, that makes it all about talent- which is a sort of intimidating word, in the face of the internet and Etsy and Pinterest and all of those hoards of talented people. The word “talent” makes my type-A personality immediately jump into an imagined competition, a push to be better than everyone else. Which is quickly self-defeating. Have you seen everyone else? They’re, um. Really good.

I had it half right when I realized I needed something to set me apart from everyone else. But I sort of skirted the question by relying on party tricks instead of talent.

So the big, looming scariness in the immediate is figuring out what am I good at? For someone who wants the answer to be Everything, it’s a hard question. But that’s the current, constant process. I get ahead of myself. I try to do things that aren’t in my realm, and I need to draw myself back in. Because the whole dual scariness is allowing myself to recognize, I am good at something. I’m just not good at everything.

bald.

by Liz on 02.13

Well, guys. I’m doing it.

On March 15th, I’m shaving my head.

If you’ve never heard of it, St. Baldrick’s is a charity that funds research for kids who have cancer. Volunteers raise donations by offering to shave their heads, which both raises funds but also serves as a sort of act of solidarity.

It’s actually ingenious. I’m sure there are a lot of folks who shave their heads and don’t give it a second thought. But being the vain and self-absorbed thing that I am, I’ve had to wrestle with myself a bit over it. I worry what people will think of me, if I’ll feel naked and exposed, if I’ll feel like “myself” (who knew hair was so tied up in identity stuff?).

Yes. I did just manage to make a post about charity all about myself. But, the reason why that struggling thought process is so significant is because it really made me think about this thing in a new way.  “Cancer” is such a big word, I don’t know that I ever allow myself to fully think about the dark enormity of it. But, not having control over the way you look and feel about yourself is something I can grasp. These small ones who are undergoing treatments have a whole range of giant concerns that I can’t fathom, and having no control over the way they look and feel about themselves is just the smallest tip of the iceberg.

So, let’s do this, guys! I’m shaving off aaaall this hair, and I set a goal to raise $2,000 by March 15th, but I can’t do it unless you help me. It would be amazing if you could give, but even if you can’t, help me out by reposting, Tweeting, sharing the link, Pinteresting, or whatever the kids are doing these days.

We’ve got one month to make this thing happen!

Donate here!

 

 

 

Other stuff:

My team is running a raffle! For every $50 donation, you’re entered to win a Nikon J1 2 lens kit! ($100 gets 2 chances, etc)

Because my hair is just SO long, I’ll be chopping it to donate immediately before the shave. One fundraiser, two causes!

football and my son.

by Liz on 02.11

 

Despite my lacking passion for football (“Who’s playing today?” I asked at one point), like most other Americans, I saw the Superbowl halftime show a week ago.

And, you know. Beyonce is an amazing woman.

Less amazing is the fact that, as usual, a female entertainer was wearing next-to-nothing while wiggling and writhing in front of sports fans.

Few things say, “American sports event!” like sparse clothing, hip swivels, and ads about making out with hot chicks.

Shortly after, a smart and thinking friend posted on her Facebook wall that she hopes to raise her daughter to know that’s she’s valuable without the skimpy leotard and gyrations. Poignant, considering a recent confusing interview with our girl Beyonce that mixed female empowerment with bums in the air.

Though I “liked” the comment- emotionally, as well as with the click of the mouse- instead of feeling angry and empowered and fist-shaking like I once would, I felt queasy.

My task feels so much bigger. I’m raising one of the sons.

It’s something I mentioned before, but that only seems to grow in enormity as this kid starts to understand the world around him more and more.

Just the other day, he pointed at a number on the wall and said, “Nine?”

Fricking “nine!” Who taught him nine? I didn’t! I’ve been working on, “1-2-3″ like a dolt while this kid knows nine.

Somewhere along the way, as he observed and processed and sorted information flying at him from the world around him, he figured out that that specific number is considered a nine. Though I’d always planned to teach him things with purpose and intentionality, he just went ahead and picked up what everyone around him was saying.

And it’s frightening- honest to God, frightening- to think about all of the other things he might so casually glean throughout his day. Things that I (despite not knowing how, really) intend to teach him with purpose and intentionality. Things about respecting women, and about them being worth more than just the sum of their, ahem, parts, and about the sorts of things that make a person beautiful and valuable. I plan to teach him all of these things, but holy crap, I fell asleep at the wheel for nine. I missed the boat. Someone already taught him what to think of nine and what to call it.

Could it be that easy with women? With people? Will I so easily miss my opportunity to help him understand that, though the world operates like a Miss Pawnee pageant, it’s to everyone’s detriment rather than benefit?

He learns so much so fast. And it’s a scary, intimidating job to make sure he’s learning the right things, rather than picking up the wrong ones. Because the Superbowl halftime show isn’t just telling stuff to our daughters. It’s telling a whole lot of stuff to our sons.

Frightening.