Perspectives on Perfection

In the past few weeks, I've found myself engaged in several different conversations with friends who have confessed to feeling disappointed and pressured because they're "not where they're supposed to be" in life. They're not content with where they are because they're of a certain age and 12 of their friends are ten steps ahead of them and they feel so behind.

I blame Facebook.

Seriously, that site has an amazing ability to let people create perfect pictures of their lives. Upload the right photos of your new house and 2.5 kids, exchange a few cute messages with your significant other and BAM your life is impeccable in the eyes of others.

It's like this one site is perpetuating a society of people who feel bad about themselves because they don't have as much money/stuff/free time/family pictures as friend #264? And if it's getting to our generation, what the heck must it be doing to our teenagers?

Okay, maybe the keeping up with the Joneses phenomenon isn't all Facebook's fault.

It's Twitter's, too.

Just kidding.

I think most of us just have a tendency to fall into "what I'm lacking" trap instead of focusing on what we have. Some of us don't have big savings accounts. Some of us don't have jobs. Some of us are going through rough patches in relationships.

But maybe our lack of income is making us craftier and more resourceful. Maybe being out of work is giving us more time to spend with our families. Maybe the ups and downs of our relationships will ultimately strengthen them.

There is always good. You just have to look under the rug for it sometimes.

And I guarantee that the people on Facebook/the blog circuit/Twitter/your favorite coffee shop do not have perfect lives. Everyone has stuff. Everyone has flaws and anxieties and turmoil. Maybe the people who seem so pristine are just better at playing up the positives. Maybe the positives they see in their lives breed more positives. An upward spiral of sorts.

We'll never know 100% what goes on behind other people's doors. The best we can do is try to cherish what's behind our own. Or at least just close the Facebook window when it's blowing in a fowl breeze.

A Welcome Storm

I walked outside tonight to pick some basil for the bruschetta I was making with dinner, and as I snapped leaves from their stalks, raindrops began plopping down around me.

It's not common to get summer storms in Southern California. So I decided to sit. Right there on the step where our basil pot rests.

I thought of Guy Montag and how pivotal the rainfall in Fahrenheit 451 was for him. He was the first person I knew of who had been cleansed by rain. That was the first book that really taught me about the symbolism of water in literature.

So I sat in my backyard, letting the spotty drops fall on me, washing away the invisible silt that's been coating me for 6 years.

I glanced up at my roofline and that's when I saw the rainbow above. Right over my house. And suddenly I was completely at peace. I knew without a doubt that all would be okay. All was right in the world. I felt so grateful to witness it. Those are the moments in life when you feel most alive, aren't they?

When Mr. Wonderful and I took our first trip together early in our relationship, we saw a full arc rainbow on our drive home from San Francisco. I remember thinking it was a sign. I still believe it was.

And I think maybe the one I saw today was, too. Good things ahead.

There's No Crying on the Doorstep of Possibility

The outpouring of sympathy and well wishes over my layoff have been quite astounding to me. I have to credit social media for a large chunk of that. After one post on Facebook, people I hadn't talked to in years were contacting me with optimistic notes and potential job leads.

As appreciative as I am for all the nice attention, I feel pretty strongly that I don't need sympathy. I wrote a post about this once before—about how everywhere we land in life is a direct result of the choices we make. I could've chosen to look for a new job months ago when I saw things starting to slip out of whack at work. But I chose to stay. I took the risk, I'll pay the price. It was my choice.

I have a hard time with people who play the victim because I believe that many rough situations are simply our opportunities to create change. Every day is a chance to take a different path. Turn things on their ears.

When my team got the news that our department was being shut down and our work being moved to the Sunnyvale office, I felt a mix of shock and sadness, but also a huge flood of excitement.

What did it all mean? Where would I go next? Was it a sign that I was supposed to move on to something new?

Yes. Of course it was a sign. The old Yahoo! door was swinging shut and 50 new ones were flying open in front of me. I would have time to write. I could get caught up on projects at home. I'd be able to take a little breather from a workload that's been wearing on me since January. I could possibly travel with Mr. Wonderful on his next movie.

The possibilities of what I could do with this layoff—this gift—and where I could go as a result of it were overwhelming.

Of course, when I got up and went to work the next day (we're on the books until Oct. 25th) I felt pretty blue.

But every time I stop and think about what this change could mean, I feel energized.

I may be the victim of a corporate amputation, but I am not a victim. I wish more people I knew would stop feeling sorry for themselves and start exploring the possibilities around them.

Sorry, I think I get saucy when I'm not under a day job's thumb...