Blog: A Mild Case of Meh.

Networking for Introverts, in 28 Easy Steps

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Photo by energepic.com on Pexels.com
  1. Admit the need to network. Accept there is no shame in this.
  2. Make a list of potential networking opportunities. Feel good about this positive first step.
  3. Re-sharpen your pencil.
  4. Switch to pen and better paper, with lines. Because this is important.
  5. Stare at the list, thinking deep thoughts about a better, more polished, you. Picture yourself easily talking with strangers about your many unique skills.
  6. Start a second list, detailing your many unique skills. Realize it is seriously lacking.
  7. Curl up into a fetal position and weep bitter tears at the indignity of it all, for no less than 20 minutes.
  8. Grab a glass and a bottle of spirits. You can do this.
  9. Sip and scroll through Facebook and LinkedIn for inspiration from people you admire.
  10. Refill your glass and acknowledge you are not a LinkedIn sort of person. Watch cat videos on Facebook for half an hour.
  11. Switch over to Twitter. After five minutes, mourn your inability to be as witty as everyone else on Twitter. Moisten your cheeks with a few dramatic tears. Wipe them away even more dramatically. Refill glass.
  12. Look up “writer” on Pinterest for pretty, soothing images. Attempt to pile hair in “messy bun.” Pinterest fail. Closely examine pores and make mental note to try new charcoal face mask. Take a hefty swig to get over hideously large pores suitable for housing a Fiat.
  13. Back to LinkedIn to read a few “professional advice” articles. Must embrace the platform used by so many professionals. Refill glass.
  14. After two articles, conclude you could have written better, even though you are hardly professional or in any position to give advice. Snort and proclaim it all bollocks. Bottoms up. Ransack kitchen for sugary snacks.
  15. Search Indeed for “writer” and “editor” positions. Realize you are qualified for none of the good ones. If you were, you wouldn’t have to do this.
  16. Hate yourself and lack of credentials. Refill glass, down in one.
  17. Expand Indeed search to include remote positions. Seriously consider retraining to teach English as a Second Language from the comfort of your own home! Or becoming a hair stylist. Add Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch to your chocolate ice cream. Maybe open a restaurant.
  18. Set up an Indeed alert for any new positions with the word “communications” in them.
  19. Instantly receive and scroll through 30 new emails from Indeed, for Secretary-cum-Chief Marketing Officer-cum-Editorial Rock Star. Delete your Indeed profile and resume. Lick ice cream bowl.
  20. Back to fetal position for full-on hissy fit. Fall asleep in awkward position on sofa.
  21. Wake up and find Dobie Gillis on Amazon Prime. Ditch glass and drink directly from the bottle wishing for simpler times.
  22. Call up best friend and yell angrily about the lack of benefactors these days. WHO CAN AFFORD TO BE AN ARTIST?? NO ONE!!
  23. Apologize profusely for accidentally ringing your ex and go back to Dobie Gillis. Empty the bottle.
  24. Slump to bed and hide under covers until nightmare thoughts of networking go away. Remember you are lactose intolerant. Spend time crying in bathroom due to dairy-induced trauma.
  25. Crawl back into bed, fall into fitful, drunken sleep.
  26. Wake at noon, immediately feel guilty. Really, must get act together and put self out there! Make a green detox smoothie, extra kale. New day, new you!!!
  27. Sharpen pencil. Make a list of potential networking opportunities.
  28. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Dreaming of Demi

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In honor of Valentine’s Day, a made up holiday I hate, I invite you to partake in another example of a normal relationship, to counter the Hallmark-induced stupor in which you possibly find yourself as we near the dreaded day of ridiculous heart-shaped everything. You may remember I wrote this post about actual conversations between partners in committed relationships, as compared to those scripted, saccharine-sweet exchanges forced upon you in sappy, overly-romantic movies. I’m just here to help, people. I hope you find this new post equally useful. And remember, love means never having to … Nope. I got nothing.

The New F Words: Fun, Family, Festive.

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Cutting down our Christmas tree became a family tradition after I divorced my husband. On my own with two little ones, I was desperately searching for a new holiday “normal.” Though I’d never so much as trimmed a hedge before, I had the brilliant notion that I could chop down a tree. We’d never had a live tree, though I’d always wanted one, and I was finally in charge of the decision. It seemed like a perfect new Christmas activity for the three of us. What could go wrong?