Gratification and gratitude

I sold a print! To a stranger! Which covers all my costs of printing and mounting the entire show! More importantly, it proves to me that my decision to take my photography more seriously was a good one. I now have objective proof that I’m good at more than one thing, and that’s never a bad thing to know.

But even without the sale, my opening on Wednesday evening was enormously gratifying. People I never expected would show up came to have a drink. I saw a library professional who writes science fiction talking to a horror writer who takes smutty pictures, an illustrator getting travel tips from a style blogger, a Renaissance woman discussing midlife career shifts with a designer turned future veterinarian… People from all different parts of my life collided and connected; who knows what might come out of it? It was a tasty stew, and the next time I feel lonely, insecure, or isolated, I want to remember that I’m the one who tossed the ingredients together.

I also want to remember, next time I feel like throwing a party, that holding it at a bar lets me enjoy all the best parts of a get-together without any of the tedious cleaning up before or after.

Meanwhile, two different editors praised my work in the last week, I brokered an introduction between two friends who really need to know each other, and Laura gave me some eggs.

I’m a lucky woman. Now I think I’m going to make an omelette.

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Sit back and enjoy the show

Sometimes, when you really want something, all it takes is the courage to ask.

There’s a bar in the Tenderloin where my friends and I have been meeting for cocktail hours fairly often for several years now. The owners regularly change up the decor; as it turns out, they do it by inviting people they know to hang their artwork. So a few weeks ago, I asked them what my chances were of persuading them to let me hang some of mine. To my delight, they invited me to put up a show…with less than 3 weeks to prepare for it. So I’ve been getting prints made, buying giant sheets of black foamcore, getting spare blades for my mat knife, and preparing to mount a dozen prints ranging in size from 8″x10″ to 20″x30″ (which is absolutely the largest print I’ve ever made, and I hope I sell it, because I have no idea where I’ll store it if I don’t).

I promised myself that this was the year I’d start taking my photography more seriously. Just a few months later, I’ve managed to arrange to hang my work, in a venue where other people have successfully shown their art (in some cases, literally selling it on the spot, straight off the wall ), for three months.

Am I proud and excited and ever so pleased with myself? Why yes! Yes, I am! And I’m wondering what other delightful things I can conjure up for myself.

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Come fly with me

I’m usually super-frugal, but travel is the one thing about which I will reliably say, “What the hell, it’s only money,” and I’m never sorry. Last week, I met up for coffee with someone who shares that philosophy: the awesome Audi, who writes the blog Fashion for Nerds. I had a hunch we’d get along, and not just because she has an enviable sense of style — Audi had recently made a series of posts about traveling on a budget, which is one of my favorite subjects as well.

Sure enough, we immediately leaped into a discussion about cheap airfare, hostels for grown-ups, affordable destinations (and ways to make expensive destinations more affordable), and the delights of hanging out with the locals instead of spending all your time in the known tourist hot spots. She told me about flying to Europe via Iceland Air, which lets you stop over in Reykjavik for several days for no additional charge. I told her about London Walks, my favorite way to get to know one of my favorite cities better for very little money. We have the same approach to travel: Yes, it’s only money, so why not stretch it as far as possible?

We also agreed that traveling alone is one of the great pleasures of life — you can go wherever you like and linger as long as you please without worrying that someone else is bored, hungry, broke, or in a hurry to get somewhere else. Bliss! Of course, you don’t have anyone to debrief with at the end of an experience-filled day, but if that’s a non-negotiable part of your travel experience, you can spend your days solo and meet up with your travel companion(s) for dinner later, or chat with the folks you meet at your lodgings or at the neighborhood pub. Both of us have met people while on vacation with whom we’re still in touch, sometimes years later.

I’m posting about this because it fits into the topic of this blog in two ways:

First, while I’m no shrinking violet, it’s still an act of real courage for me to invite a total stranger out for coffee for no other reason than that I liked reading her blog and realized she lives in my city. It could have gone any direction at all. She could have said no. She could have ignored me. We could have met up and taken an instant dislike to each other! But none of that would have killed me. And because I extended myself, I now have a new pal I wouldn’t have met otherwise.

Second, travel is the very definition of wing-building. Especially budget travel, which takes a lot of us (even the frugal ones) far out of our comfort zone — and solo budget travel even farther out of it — and traveling alone to a country where you don’t speak the language, farther yet. Travel has brought me some of the most satisfying, enlightening, and joyful experiences of my life; it’s also given me some of the most frustrating, frightening, and sad moments.

Since I’m currently planning my next solo international adventure, the topic of travel is much on my mind. So look for more posts about it. And if there’s anything in particular you want me to discuss, whether that’s my favorite guidebooks, my tips for packing light, or my thoughts on how to plan a short or an extended trip, let me know in the comments! I’d love the ideas, input, and feedback.

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The joy of fear

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. … You must do the thing you think you cannot do. – Eleanor Roosevelt

***

This quote is a touchstone for me; my main intention in starting this blog was to chronicle my attempts to follow Eleanor Roosevelt’s advice and thereby become a stronger, braver, more confident version of myself. I’ve mentioned this quote to dozens of people over the years, and almost every time, the person I’m talking to brings up a time that s/he “felt the fear and did it anyway.” This week, though, two very different people who have never met each other responded to the quote in a very different, and (to me, at least) unusual way: both said that they were so stubborn and determined that they couldn’t remember ever thinking anything was beyond them as long as they tried hard enough.

I have to admit that I found this completely incomprehensible. Never felt intimidated or overwhelmed? Never endured insecurity or self-doubt? Never suspected they’d bitten off more than they could chew? Never worried about what other people would think or how they might react? Never feared the repercussions of going against the crowd?  Never hesitated, even briefly, to say, “I wonder if this is going to work out”?

Never? Not even once?

That seems more than impossible to me; it seems superhuman.

But the flip side — being ruled by doubt — seems equally impossible. I confess that I’ve certainly  hung back, kept quiet, delayed, denied, avoided, procrastinated, made excuses, taken the path of least resistance, or simply gone along with the crowd from time to time. The axiom about how the nail that sticks up gets hammered down rings all too true for me some days. Let’s face it: it’s a lot easier, plain and simple, not to do the things you think you can’t do.

But it’s also not as satisfying.

There’s joy in looking fear in the face. In standing up for yourself. In defending someone else. In risking rejection. In entering competition. In challenging conventional wisdom. In claiming authority. In setting boundaries. In examining your preconceptions. In defying your prejudices. In redefining your priorities. In confronting your phobias. In speaking your mind, as activist Maggie Kuhn said, “even if your voice shakes.”

Fear — not terror, but a healthy concern for consequences — is part of the human condition. It’s normal to think you can’t do something. It’s also normal to go ahead and give it a shot anyhow.

This week, find something you didn’t think you could do, and then do it. And come back here and tell me about it.

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In which I play in traffic

Several years ago, a friend passed her old mountain bike on to me. I was very excited at first. I imagined zipping nimbly around like the people in Amsterdam who commute merrily hither and thither on their beater bikes. I bought padded bike shorts (because I thoroughly approve of any sport for which my own natural padding is inadequate). I even starting thinking about getting panniers, or at least a basket, in which I pictured myself bringing home a baguette and a bouquet of flowers or something equally charming.

Then I realized 2 things:

1. Although my neighborhood is fairly flat, San Francisco has some very big hills. And I am somewhat lazy.
2. Although San Francisco has a lot of bicyclists and bike lanes, the cars are bigger and more numerous. And I am terrified of getting doored, clipped, or just plain mown down.

As a result, I didn’t ride nearly as much as I thought I would. Yes, I downloaded the SF Bike Map, which not only shows all the official bike routes, but color-codes every street in the city to indicate how steep it is (this is also very useful for walking). I used it to help me figure out where to pedal in my own ‘hood and how to get to the bike paths in Golden Gate Park with minimal risk, but I didn’t dare venture farther.

Until today!

I figured that if I was going to confront my fear of riding on city streets, I should do it on Sunday, when traffic is light, and in the nice, flat, comparatively bike-friendly Mission District. So I rode my bike a few blocks to a bus stop, where I loaded it onto the handy-dandy bike rack Muni provides on the front of its buses. The bus took me up and over the ridge that runs through the center of town. I got off at 18th Street and Valencia. And then I rolled up my jeans, strapped on my helmet, and rode merrily along bike lanes and side streets until I got to Precita Park, where a bunch of street food vendors were dishing it up for a small crowd and a film crew from the Food Network.

I rewarded myself for my courage with a lavender creme brulee and a grilled Gruyere sandwich with onion/fennel/bacon jam before heading home again. Gotta keep up my strength.

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