I can't win if I don't play: Selling myself

I am applying for a really fancy fellowship. I won't jinx it right now but believe me when I tell you it's one of the best gigs in journalism and I really want to get it.
I'm a writer. I do that all the time. This kind of blogging is a bit weird for me because I've always been careful to, except for very rare occasions, keep myself out of my stories.
But I'm growing bolder with each post so, thanks for that.
But this application is kicking my butt. First I had to admit to myself then to other people....like my bosses....that I thought I had a chance at competing among what appears to be a very accomplished group of people. You know grown up people like an Amal Clooney you might run into at Wal-Mart.
Then, not only do I have to sell myself and sell myself hard in 1,000 words, I have to ask other professionals who I respect to help me sell myself. It doesn't help that someone helping me might have told me that one of the people making the decision on this particular fellowship may lean towards thinking that of Kentucky, Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee as the same place. (Honestly, I can kind of see that if you aren't from somewhere there.)
So I have spent about 24 hours out of the last 72 working on an essay. I don't even remember what I wrote for a college essay. ( I got a couple scholarships so I guess it was OK.)
First I was breezy and bright which has worked for previous far less intense fellowship applications. Second, after reading five years worth of bios of previous recipients, I went dark and serious and pulled out some of the saddest stories I have ever told.
It did make me sound like a Serious Journalist. And, honestly, I have lots of stories that do that. I'm sure my Serious Journalist competitors have lots of those too.
On my drive home tonight, I started thinking about what really makes me different maybe special. Yes, I am good at my job. That's true. Yes, I've had great help in producing some terrific work.
But there are lots of pepole who can say that.
I'm rounding the corner into thinking that maybe what will bring me out of the impressive stack of applicants is the things I've done that not too many people I know have done that didn't seem all that special at the time.
Some of that is my Uber-Nerd devotion to journalism at a very young age. As a high school journalist I interviewed 300 kids about the impact of the recession on the youth of the day. Yes. I. Did. I surveyed 300 kids. Not surprisingly my middle class, mostly white peers did not suffer much from the recession in the early 80s. Or, if they did, they didn't want to admit it to the cute girl in the cafeteria who kept insisting that they help her fill out a survey.
But I also decided at some point, after falling forward through three lay offs in five years in the early 90s that I was not going to take a fourth job even though the money was good. There were two reasons. I thought the company was growing too fast and I didn't want to get stuck in Miami. Plus a friend of mine's Uncle Joe told me following a family funeral that no one should ever take a job just for the money. He said this with a New York Italian accent that made it sound especially profound. I didn't' take that job.  Six months later, the department I was going to work in was eliminated.
Instead, I focused on being the mistress of my own fate and made freelancing work until after my daughter was born and did fine.
Better than fine.
My daughter calls in my hippie phase. I tried to pretend she was wrong. But hand-dyed, tie-dyed overalls, check.
Birkenstocks, check.
Long wild hair most often in a basball cap or held up by a pencil, check.
Bartering photography and pottery classes by mixing glazes and mopping floors at an art school, check and check.
So, in my hippie phase, I made sometimes beautiful things just because and read brainy books for no good reason. If I hadn't had that break between Uber-Nerd and Serious Journalist I would have cracked under newsroom pressure a long time ago. (OK I may have cracked, I think I would have broken.)
So, I'm going to hit "post" on this and send it out into the ether and go onto what could literally be the 50th draft application if you count each time I 've closed and open the file.  I'm hoping to win because I have the courage to play the game and tell the truth about some messy choices in my life that ended up with good results.
If you pray, say a prayer for me. I you send up good vibes, vibe away. If you think good thoughts, I could use the positive energy.
I'll keep you posted.

Turning 50 is like attending a funeral…

Have you ever attended a funeral…walked up to the casket…only to hear someone say, "Don't she look good?" 

Really??  Have you ever seen a dead person look good?

And, what is the deal with all of the flowers?  The person is dead!

Typically, funerals are sad events, but many times families host "Celebrations of Life" to honor the dead and remember the great aspects of that person's life.

All of this is quite similar to what happens when someone turns 50 years old!  On Sunday, December 14th, 2014, I turned FIFTY!  I woke up that morning and thought to myself, "I cannot believe I am 50 years old!  …I am so old!!!" I was actually depressed!

Other people know you are old too!  On my birthday, people felt compelled to tell me how good I looked to be FIFTY years old!  And, they sent me flowers!  Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed them immensely!  But, my house began to smell like a funeral parlor…ironically!

And, yes, the day was definitely a celebration of life...what little I seemed to have left.  It was filled with wonderful birthday greetings and Facebook posts that were so sweet and nice…as you would expect epitaphs to be. 

Here is my top ten list of things said to me when I turned FIFTY:

Number 10:  Fifty is the new 40!
Number 9:   You look really good to be 50.
Number 8:   You are just getting warmed up!
Number 7:   You could actually say it is the 20^th anniversary of your 30^th birthday!
Number 6:   You are a HALF-CENTURY old. Wow!
Number 5:   The older you get, the wiser you get.  You must be a genius!
Number 4:   Welcome to the club!
Number 3:   My age was compared to a dog playing dead.  (This one came with a video.)
https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10205649993832046&set=vb.1320168050&type=3&theater

Number 2:   Are you able to get a senior discount now?
Number 1:    Rudolph is celebrating his 50^th anniversary too.

All in all, my birthday was amazing!  My students threw me my first ever surprise birthday party.  

I attended the “The Nutcracker” ballet in Louisville with my husband, son and fellow Menopausal Mom, Mary. 

We ate at an amazing restaurant called, “The Rudyard Kipling.” (I HIGHLY recommend this place.  The food was amazing, and there was live music!) 

And, I only suffered one hot flash during the ballet. (I think the snow tricked my mind into thinking it was really cold!)  This was without a doubt, the best birthday celebration ever! 

The ironic piece here is that I had never had a birthday party or celebration to this point.  So, getting old does have its benefits; people feel sorry for you, and in turn, do super nice things for you!  It’s a good sort of sympathy!  I’ll take it! 

Kim York
"May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder!"

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10205649993832046&set=vb.1320168050&type=3&theater

It's Time to Find Myself

An empty nest is not always a bad thing.  I do miss my children, but somewhere along the way in my roles of wife, mother and college student, I lost my identity.

Where did Kim, the painter, go?  Where did Kim, the singer, go? 

I knew she was in me somewhere, and today, Thanksgiving Day 2014, from the peacefulness of our cabin in the woods, I decided it was time to let her out.  Why today, you might ask?  I will tell you! 

My children are all grown and two of them have families of their own now.  And, I know the importance of building your own family traditions, especially when your family is young.  So, I never put pressure on them to come “home” on the holidays… because they are busy building homes of their own.  And, as a parent, that is what you want for them. 

As much as I want my children to see me as the center of their universe, I know that is not the case.  Right?  Yes, I know that is right.  So, I will make myself the center of my own universe.  I can do that.  Right?  Of course I am right!

For the first time ever, except for a small hamburger lunch for my husband and I, I wasn’t cooking on Thanksgiving.  I actually got to watch the Macy’s Parade.  Has it always been a big commercial for NBC television shows and Broadway plays?  I wouldn’t know because typically I am basting a turkey.  As much as it seemed like a big commercial, the parade was great.  Although, I do think there was a lot of lip-syncing.  I digress. 

After the NBC Parade, oops, I mean the Macy’s Parade, I decided to relax in my Jacuzzi.  I lit a “Mistletoe” Yankee Candle, turned Pandora holiday music on my laptop, added some great bath oil, my sweet Ashley bought me for Christmas two years ago, slipped into the tub and turned on the jets.  THEN, I jumped right back out.

It had been so long since I had taken time to slip into the Jacuzzi, that the jets had gotten a bit, shall we say, “dingy.”  And, the dinginess made it’s way into my bath. (This is also why I had not used the bath oil.)  

So, my husband and I took the time to clean the jets, and it is ready for another attempt tonight.  I can assure you, the dinginess will never happen again.  I will take time to smell the bath oil!

Tomorrow I plan to paint.  Hopefully my brushes haven’t rotted, but if so…I will buy more.  Kim is ready to appear and put her talents to work.  And, that is my goal as my 50^th birthday quickly approaches…to let Kim shine!

Do you have an empty nest?  If so, has it changed your life?

May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Kim

Facebook posts say a lot about the poster

At my age, you will not see me posting pictures of myself all over Facebook, or talking about all of the exercise I am getting.  Nope, what you will see on my page is predominately stories about my dogs, or the happenings of my family…and every now and then, pictures I have taken of other people or places I visit.  I love photography.  Am I boring?  ...Possibly.

To give you an idea of my exciting life, the post I made this year that has earned the most “Likes” would be waking up to a knife sticking out of my kitchen floor.  Not boring, but spooky and bizarre.  That could be a description of me!

But, I have to say I find Facebook entertaining to look at.  I almost always know what I will read based on the person who posts the information.  If I were a psychiatrist, I would have a field-day interpreting the individual posts.

“Words have a magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair; they can transfer knowledge from teacher to student; words enable the orator to sway his audience and dictate its decisions. Words are capable of arousing the strongest emotions and prompting all men's actions.”

SIGMUND FREUD, The Educator's Book of Quotes

Are our posts a direct reflection of who we are, or what we want others to see?  Hmmm.

When I take a selfie to post, and this is rare, I may take 10 before I get one that seems to mask my imperfections.   You know you are guilty of this too…right? I hate pictures of myself…I have always enjoyed being on the other side of the camera!

However, I have friends who are fascinated with pictures of themselves.  They post new pictures every day in their new outfits or new hair styles.  They seem to love the “You look beautiful” comments they receive.  Is this narcissistic or do they have low self-esteem and need reassurance?  And, in all sincerity, would anyone ever reply to such a posting with “You look hideous!?” 

Then there are those who are always sick and feel the need to tell everyone about their newest ailment.

“Oh Lord, my big toe is inflamed, it could be an ingrown toe-nail.  Here is a picture of it.  Do any of my Facebook friends know what this could be?”

Stock Photo...NOT MY TOE!

 I have looked at some gross pictures! 

Is this the need for sympathy, or are they hypochondriacs? 

 Another thing I have noticed is that age does play a factor in this.

The “youngsters,” as I call them, the 13-24 age group, use Facebook as a tool of battle, especially between girls.  Girls love to call other girls out when they think they have been “disrespected.”  Guys just jump in to the posts to add drama.  These are the posts where you see the words “baby mama” and “baby daddy” as much as you see the Vince Gill and Carrie Underwood’s “How Great Thou Art” video posted.  (And, I do love that video, by the way.)

The 25-39 age group, the “young adults,” love to post about their favorite hobbies and past-times.  You may see posts about sports, or things they have pinned on Pinterest.  You may also see the likes and dislikes of things happening on their favorite TV shows.  #WeMissYouSamiBrady!

The “young adults” also post pictures of their children’s birth, and pictures of their babies doing things like sneezing, smiling and crawling.  Entertainment at its finest!   

Then there is my age group, the elders, 40 and above!  We like to bore people.  We share recipes…don’t deny it elders…I saw the 3,000 posts of the same Pumpkin-Spice Cheesecake recipe last week! 

 We also talk about our vacations to the exciting beaches of Florida in the winter-time.  And, yes, we like to post funny videos.  At our age, we need something to laugh at!   

We also wish our spouses “Happy Anniversary” on Facebook.  And, we get really sappy when we wish our children a “Happy Birthday.”  (You know they love it when we post naked pictures of them when they were infants!)  

And we love to brag and talk about our grown children; we post everything they do.  We want everyone out in Facebook world to know how proud we are of their accomplishments…and to understand it is because we were such amazing parents that it happened. 

All in all, Facebook is about reaching out to others and sharing.  No matter our motives.