Confessions of a Chronic Overachiever

It's no secret, if you follow this blog, that I'm looking for work.

Why? I'm not unemployed. Far from it, I have an established career at a stable institution. But the thing is...I'm hungry.




The thing is, I'm bored.

I've been called an overachiever my entire life. Sometimes it's a compliment, often it's not. Sometimes I've wished I could be satisfied with underachieving, for once.

But I'm not, and I never will be. That's just not how I'm wired.

For over 10 years I've worked at a California State University. It's a gorgeous campus, all green grass and waterfalls and cobblestone paths. There are worse places to spend eight hours a day.

But for all its aesthetic beauty, it's also got its difficulties, if you're an overachiever. It's a state school. It's all the bureaucracy of government layered into all the politics of academia. Red tape is the name of the game. Things move slowly. Or sometimes not at all.

I like to move.

I've stuck with it, for a few reasons. One, because where else am I going to be paid to write in this town? Short of relocating to the Bay Area, this has been my best option.

But I've also stuck it out because I've built something here. I started at the age of 22 as a receptionist. But I was one overachieving receptionist. After answering phones and opening mail in the Office of the University President for a week or two, I saw a need: her writer was busy writing speeches, and her correspondence was falling behind. I offered to write a letter or two, flashing my hot-off-the-presses B.A. in English. Very quickly, I was ghostwriting all of the President's letters, as well as editing some of her high-level publications.


I spent the next several years working as a secretary in several different offices, but I maintained the connections I'd made with C-level executives, and I built a solid reputation as a flawless writer, editor, and communicator. I did side work for everybody from the President to individual faculty members to the University PR office.


When I was hired as Assistant to the Dean in the Graduate School in 2005, I performed all my Executive Assistant functions beautifully. But I also combed through the School's publications and web site, offering suggestions, until finally the Dean asked me to rewrite and redesign them all. Within a few months of hire as an Executive Assistant, I was promoted to a position created especially for me: The Graduate School Communications Coordinator.

I held this position for 5 years, and I built an entire marketing, recruitment, and communications plan from literally nothing. I hired an assistant. I attended conferences and made connections. And I wrote. I wrote everything.

At the same time, I took a side job as a Thesis Reader, responsible for proofreading master's level theses just prior to their publication. I made myself the best Thesis Reader on staff, and eventually another position was created just for me. I became the Thesis Reader Coordinator, and my job was to hire, train, and supervise the staff of readers. I instituted staff-wide workshops, training, style guides, and an email list, bringing 8 Readers who had previously been fully independent (and wholly disconnected) together to form a cohesive team. And I personally read every thesis written on campus that first year, to be sure my staff (and the training I'd provided them) were up to par. The crop of master's theses that year was widely recognized across campus as the best-written and cleanest copies in recent memory, and I learned so much about the writing and reading process that I was able to further improve the work of the Readers the following semester.

Eventually, a victim of budget cuts, the Graduate School was reorganized and disbanded, and I was reassigned to the Admissions and Outreach office. This was 2010, and I walked into an office whose social media efforts were stuck somewhere around 2006. The Admissions office had a dusty, silent Facebook page boasting 30 fans. So I took over. I opened Twitter and Instagram accounts. I created an editorial calendar, a social media marketing plan. I grew the Facebook page from 30 to nearly 500 fans. I took countless online courses and attended every webinar I could cram into my schedule, to teach myself the art of Social Media and Content Marketing. I hired another assistant. I incorporated social media into every aspect of our recruitment and publication efforts. Every event had a hashtag. Every web page had social media links. To this day most of my superiors are not on Facebook or Twitter. For the most part, I don't think they have a clue what it is I do. But it brings in traffic, and it attracts students, and it increases engagement, and so they let me do it.

In 2012 I took it upon myself to start a Student Blogging project. This was an ambitious undertaking for a little rural state school whose administrators barely accepted Facebook and pretended Twitter didn't exist. Nobody wanted to let me do it. Student bloggers? Uncensored? Unmoderated? Right on our website? Was I insane?

Probably. But I was determined to drag this school into the 21st century, so I did it anyway. I did it responsibly, but I did it, without the support or even the knowledge of many of my higher-ups. I hired 4 bloggers, students I knew and trusted. I trained them, and I set them free. Then I marketed the crap out of them, and I tracked their analytics, and I submitted a report to my manager. Here, look what I have done. It's already in motion. Try to stop it now.

Spoiler: they didn't. Because it was awesome. Because it was innovative and unlike anything any other campus in the 23-campus CSU system was doing. Because other, larger campuses took notice. And because it worked. It brought in the kind of students we've always had trouble attracting: high-achieving, highly engaged students who had choices, who were looking for something special. We showed them the only story that matters, the student story. We let our current students do the talking and the recruiting, and it worked. It still works.

Two years later the blogs are the cornerstone of our social media and content marketing efforts. Incoming students love reading them, and current students love writing them. I have dozens of applications each semester; they're only paid $18 a week to blog for us, and I'm only allowed the budget for 7 of them at a time, but those 7 spots are coveted.

From an outside perspective, from the real world, our blogs and our social media profiles are not much to look at. I know that. I'm proud of what I've accomplished here with very few resources and with roadblocks at every turn, but I'm not deluded. I may live in this small town, but I live on the Internet, in the pages of Venture Beat and KISSmetrics and Lifehacker, on Twitter and on Reddit. I live at lynda.com and TED, at Moz and Seth's Blog and Entrepreneur. I live wherever I'm learning and growing and readying myself for something bigger.

The world has changed in 10 years. A lot. And the Silicon Valley is calling my name. I love tech, I love communication, I love social media and content marketing. Above all, I love writing. But I also love living where I live. I want to work where I live, so I've made the most of it for 10 years.

I'm bored.

I'm hungry.

And it's time to break out, because the remote work movement is real, and it's happening, whatever Marissa Mayer might tell you. And for the first time in history a talented person can live where she wants to live and still work on the cutting edge. Tech like Sqwiggle and Dropbox and Skype make it possible. Teams like Buffer, Automattic, and Zapier are leading the way. Remote work has the Richard Branson Stamp of Approval. It's the future. And I want in.

I read this article the other day, and it's been stirring around inside me ever since. Ten Years of Silence.

My ten years are up, and I'm ready to begin my masterpiece.

If you're a forward-thinking company looking for an overachiever, hit me up:

Follow me on Twitter.

Link up on LinkedIn.

Shoot me an email.

Image credits: FilmDoctor, Buzznet

Elf Revisited: Linking up with Blogging Bash

I'm linking up with Alison and Ado for the 1st Anniversary Blogging Bash (their first anniversaries, not mine). If you don't already read Alison at Mama Wants This! and Ado at The Mamalog, you should start now.

For their blogiversary, these ladies have asked us all to choose a favorite old post and link it up. I know, you'd prefer something new and exciting. Well, look, this is their party, ok? I'm just a guest. So deal with it.

I chose this, the stunning conclusion of my Elf on the Shelf drama from last winter. I'm not sure why, I just reread it and it made me laugh, so there you go.

It's part of a series of sorts, detailing my harrowing experience acquiring an Elf on the Shelf. It all began with my utter failure to to win a free Elf on the Shelf from Sara at The Periwinkle Papillon. You can read the complete story in the archives, if you're truly interested or if you're avoiding doing your job or something. Here.

But this is the happy ending. So here it is!

Simmer down. Elf acquired.

OK, you can all RELAX. I know, this has been weighing on your mind all weekend: are Alyssa's children being tormented by Gnarles the Zombie Baby Elf?? Well, they weren't. Calm down.

Grandma pulled through and discovered an Elf on our doorstep when she dropped by to bring us some cookies (seriously. She brought us cookies. She would be exactly like a cartoon Grandma, except that her husband baked them. Also they were leftover Halloween sugar cookies, mushed up to disguise the fact that they were meant to be pumpkins. So they were basically orange smoosh cookies).

Our Elf is named Jacob. The Princess tried to play it cool at first, like, eh, maybe he's a real Elf, maybe he's not, but then when she slept and he MOVED?! Totally. Convinced. "Oh, Jacob," she gushed when she discovered him swinging from the kitchen chandelier Saturday morning. "I justknew you were a real Elf! How did you get up there, you crazy Elf?!"

Jacob had brought with him a "make your own snowman ornament" craft kit, so we set about making our own snowman ornaments. We decided this was probably Jacob's way of telling us it was time to take down the Halloween decorations and put up some Christmas cheer, so we did just that.

Daddy heroically risked serious injury or death hanging lights on our very tall new house, climbing a ladder much higher than any he has climbed before. We discovered after he was done that the ladder has a 200 lb. weight limit. tHe O.G. is a little closer to, say, 235. But he lived! It's a Christmasmiracle! And the house looks fabulous!

Actually the house looks a little out of place, because we find ourselves living in a very, very nice neighborhood (as in, we're the only renters on the block, yo) and apparently there's an unspoken rule in very, very nice neighborhoods that you decorate with white lights only. tHe O.G. doesn't hang white lights. He just doesn't. That's not how tHe O.G. rolls. So there's our very, very nice (did I mention tall?) house in our very, very nice new neighborhood, enthusiastically draped corner to corner in furiously bright multicolored, blindingly, dazzlingly multicolored LED lights.

And the neighbors' houses in their demure and elegant white-lighted glory look down on us with dismay.

And we're cool with that.

Santa likes color, y'all. Everybody knows this.

Sunday morning we found Jacob the Elf had rather unwisely positioned himself on the playroom floor surrounded by blocks. After the Monster gleefully destroyed all of Jacob's towers and castles, he set his sights on the Elf himself, and I was forced to intervene. Now, if you're familiar with Elf on the Shelf lore, you know that touching the Elf is strictly verboten.

The Princess was torn: surely we should not move the Elf from his chosen resting place. On the other hand, would Jacob prefer a quick move to safety, or being chewed on by her Monster of a baby brother? So we opted for a quick, frantic, hot-potato move to safety, chanting "I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry Jacob, I'm sorry Jacob" all the way to the top of the refrigerator. We then informed Jacob that he needed to find higher resting spots from now on. This could be challenging. For Jacob.

This morning we found Jacob perched atop a speaker on the wall, clutching a tube of glitter glue. He'd added some bling to the big "Merry Christmas" sign the Princess had made to hang above the fireplace. Oh, that Jacob.

FANCY Friday: A Guest Post for the Magnificent Mr. Carlos

Hey guys,

If you didn't catch it on Twitter, here's the link to my guest post from last week. I decided to throw my cousin a bone and grace his blog with my benevolent presence.*

Head over and check out my contribution to his FANCY Friday series, where I list all the fanciest items I simply MUST purchase (or accept as gifts. Call me).  Go on and click.  I wrote it, so of course you'll like it.



*OK, in all honesty, he IS my cousin so I'm obligated to give him a hard time, but he's really a good guy and a smart, funny writer and an active sailor with the U.S. Navy, so you kind of owe him. Go check him out.

Confessions

Today I'm over at The Smartness earning some cred as a guest gangsta. Yeah, that's right.

Click over to read some of the dark confessions that I just couldn't bring myself to share with you here. And while you're there, give some love to Moxie, the original gangsta who's welcomed me to her crib (do gangstas still say crib? Did they ever say crib?).

I'm still not sure why Moxie thinks I'm cool.

If I Only had an Elf

If you're new here (yay!), you might want to familiarize yourself with the Elf on the Shelf saga here and here. Or don't! I don't care. I mean honestly it's an incredibly stupid story, so you probably don't want to waste your time. You can just pick up here if you like. Or go read something less stupid.

Some of my readers aren't familiar with Elf on the Shelf. I wasn't either, until very recently, so allow me to introduce him to you.

You should definitely start where I did, with Periwinkle Papillon's video, The Beauty & the Agony of Elf on the Shelf. Go on and watch, it's quick and hilarious; we'll wait.

See, the idea is, the Elf hangs out in your house, disguised as a creepy stalker delightful toy, observing your children. Then as soon as they fall asleep, he comes to life and flies straight to the North Pole to tattle to the big guy! So you'd better be good!

He flies back and spends the rest of the night amusing himself in your home, but when the kids wake up, he turns back into a toy--right in the middle of whatever he was doing! And so the kids leap out of bed with joy and no grumbling and go searching for the Elf.

Here are some photos from Pinterest of Elves in action:

He's a literary Elf.
source

He's a game night Elf.
source

He's an arty Elf.
source

He's a lady's man Elf.
source

He's a mischievous Elf.
source

He's a fishing Elf.
source

Most notably, he's not a Zombie Elf.

Many of you on Twitter have taken up the cause, retweeting and crying out for somebody to send me an Elf and deliver my children from the threat of A Very Gnarly Christmas.

We're expecting delivery of our own Elf any day now. We didn't order one or anything, I just have faith in holiday miracles. And Grandma.

If you don't have a mom like this, I'm truly sorry. But you can order your own Elf on the Shelf through Amazon, and if you use my Amazon Affiliate link I might earn half a penny or so on your purchase!  WIN-WIN!

Somewhere there's an orphaned Elf looking for me.

OK. I warned you, in my Halloween post, that my Halloween obsession was nothing next to my Christmas mania. I. Love. Christmas.

LOVE IT.

You guys? It's Christmastime. It is! Thanksgiving is over and it's Christmas!

Last month I entered (ok, I obsessively entered every. single. day) a contest over at Periwinkle Papillon to win an Elf on the Shelf.  Now. I had never heard of an Elf on the Shelf before. I had fully enjoyed my holidays for 30 years now without an Elf. But now that I'm aware this magic little creature exists, I need one.

Sara at Periwinkle Papillon foolishly allowed multiple entries to her contest, and I called her bluff. I've done the math (shocking, I know) and my entries totaled 28% of ALL TOTAL ENTRIES. I should have won that thing.

Here's a small sampling of my 17 entry comments:

It begins.

Don't think I won't.

This right here had to be what killed it for me. Stupid!

Did you miss me? 

Why is the universe conspiring to keep me from my rightful Elf?? WHY??

Through it all, I felt Sara had my back. She wanted me to win this Elf, I really think she did.

I'm a prophet. I really am. Pretty sure the girl who won really DID only enter once.

Sigh.

Alas. I did not win. Sara recognized my passion and dedication and expressed her remorse that I hadn't won, but apparently she was not remorseful enough to fix the contest and give me my Elf. Whatever.

So here I am. November 30, and no Elf. I don't even know how I'm going to make it  my kids are going to make it 26 days without an Elf watching their every move and threatening to tell Santa when they whine. Like I can be bothered to discipline them?! Please! I have Christmas movies to watch! Plus, why would I want to be the bad guy? That's why we have Santa. And Elves.

So I've been whining about how badly I want an Elf, but how I don't want to actually pay for one (where's the fun in that?) and then Twitter brought me this:

Elves from Catie. 
Pros: it's an Elf! It's cheaper than Elf on the Shelf. And it supports a good cause.
Cons: Less creepy.

So. In conclusion: who wants to send me my kids an Elf? I don't even need the book, you guys. I'm a writer. I can make up my own story. I just need a seriously creepy Elf to scare my children half to death and instill in them the holiday spirit. Is that so much to ask?

Save Our Sam

Remember Sam?

This is Sam. He's adorable and people love him and he has cancer. No fair.

If you haven't read the story, you should. Sam was brought into this world and into the arms of his loving parents through a gestational surrogate, JW Moxie who blogs at The Smartness. Now he's been diagnosed with leukemia (no fair), and Moxie is going all out to rally the troops in his support. Please take a moment to visit the Save Our Sam website and find out how you can help, even if it's just to leave a note of encouragement for Sam and his family. And please, keep praying!

How to help:

To send love from afar, sign up for SOS Care Mail and give little Sam something to look forward to and distract him from the yuckiness. He's a kid, you guys! Kids love mail and presents! And kids with cancer need stuff they love coming at them every day.

If you're in the Savannah area (I'm totally not, but maybe you are?), show some local love.

If you make stuff and sell it, or if you have the talent to make stuff that people might potentially want to buy, or you know someone who does, and you and/or your friend like self-promotion, brand exposure, saving lives, and good karma, consider joining the SOS Online Store.

Visit Sam's Caring Bridge site and leave a note for Sam and his family. They read them and they love them.

And of course, follow Save our Sam to keep updated on other ways you can help. 

How writing is like cake decorating.

Just read this and got inspired.  "Are the Rules of Writing Killing Your Creativity?" by Asrai Devin.

The rules of writing include all those "do-nots."  Don't overwrite.  Don't overtell.  Avoid purple prose.  Stop describing things that don't matter.  Get to the meat.  YES.  This is all important.  But this is not how creativity works!  Here is the line that hit me hardest:

"It's hard to go back and add details.  You lose the voice of the story."

YES.

And that's the key.  The rules of writing are really the rules of editing!  And you cannot edit what you have not written!

I've mentioned before that I've been known to decorate cakes.  Here is one of the cardinal rules of cake decorating, the rule that ensures your buttercream is satin smooth with no lumps and cracks and inconsistencies, no unsightly cake crumbs marring its surface:

Start with way too much icing.  

After the first application of icing, only remove, never add.  Never.  Add.  More.  Icing.  Only remove the excess until you're left with perfection.  And if you don't add enough excess in the first place, you're screwed.  So you have to really pile it on thick.  Lots and lots of icing has to go on that cake, icing that you know full well is just going to come right back off.  But it has to be there!  It serves a purpose!

And it works.

And that's how writing works, too.

And that's why NaNoWriMo works.

These 30 days are your first application of icing.  The dumping.  The huge scoop, scraping the entire bowl of icing onto the top of your cake, leaving nothing behind, never worrying that it's too much.  Dump it all.  Write everything.  Write the nonsense.  Write the garbage.  Write all the possibilities, every ounce of plot, story, character development, overanalyzation.  Put it all down.  Because you cannot go back and add substance later, not really, not consistently.  You'll end up with cake crumbs marring the surface of your cake.  You'll end up losing the voice of the story.  All you should be doing in draft two is removing.

Or, as Stephen King put it in his book On Writing:  "2nd draft = 1st draft - 10%."

Only removing.  Never adding.

But before you can remove?  Before you can edit and whittle and shape and carve and smooth it down to perfection?  You have to DUMP.  Empty out the bowl on top of your cake and leave nothing behind.

I need to go write now.

Please.

Last week the wonderful and talented JW Moxie of The Smartness emailed me and asked me to guest post for her.  I was beyond flattered.  I first discovered Moxie via Twitter when somebody posted this.  It cracked me up.  Then I poked around her blog a little and found this.  And it made me cry.  Seriously.  Go read it.  It's an incredible story.  She's an incredible woman.

OK, if you're too lazy to click, just know this: after battling and overcoming infertility herself, Moxie became a gestational surrogate and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy for another infertile couple.  It's a fantastic story and I highly suggest you read it yourself.

So I was very excited to guest post for her, and asked her to do the same for me.  Everything was rolling along smoothly, and then today she posted this.  In short: Sam, her surrogate son, is 4 years old now, and he has been diagnosed with leukemia.

I can't describe how devastating I find this news.  Especially considering I have never met Moxie in person, have barely communicated with her at all, really.  But I know her.  And I consider her a friend.  Blogging is like that. She's my kind of people.  And she's done amazing things, and has inspired me with her story and her words.  And she loves this little boy with all her heart, as if he were her own, because really, he is.

So instead of the guest post we had originally planned, I'm dedicating this little corner of the internet, my little bit of real estate, to her and to Sam.  Please read "Please."  Please.  Read it, and pray.  For Moxie and for Sam, and for Sam's parents, who waited so long and went to such lengths to bring him into their family.  I have faith in God and in the power of prayer; if you do, too, please use it for this little boy and the people who love him and who waited so long to call him theirs.

Thank you.

I'm such a winner. At last the universe confirms it.

I won a contest!

LOOK.  See that?  I won!

What does that mean for you?  Because of course this is about you!  It means that in the next few weeks you will be seeing an all-new, professionally redesigned blog header here at Near Normalcy.

I know, I know.  You LOVE the one I have.  So do I.  I mean, I made it myself, so it has sentimental value and all.  Plus the little pink chick, the one who's probably not really me but could be?  I love her.  Expect her to stick around in some form.

Because Melanie at Mommy Doodles Design?  She's talented.  She'll take good care of you.  I promise.  Go check out her blog, like her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter.

So, any thoughts?  Elements you would hate to see go?  Elements you would hate to see stay?

In which I inspire greatness.

I'm feeling giddy today because I woke up to THIS.

See, you guys?  I am totally INSPIRATIONAL.  And you thought I was just some nut writing about my kids and antidepressants and zombies.

Thank you, Shannon!  You made me giggle too and I'm so glad we "met" last night.

Wordless Wednesday. Don't get used to it.

OK not entirely wordless.  I'm fairly certain wordless is not something I'm actually capable of.  But more pictures than words today, ok?  Also maybe not so much funny today.  Sorry.

Two of my favorite people to stalk on Twitter, Ilana (@mommyshorts) and Kate (@andthenkate), teamed up today on Ilana's blog.  Kate guest-posted about why she's happy with one child.  Her daughter is about my daughter's age, and the Princess was an only child for a good 4 1/2 years before we made her into a sister, so it kind of made me think.

Because for awhile I really did think the Princess might be my one and only.  One and done.  And in some ways I was ok with that because the love?  The joy?  The amazingness?  The Squinkies?  How could that not be enough?  And how could I ever love another person as completely as I love her?

But then the Monster happened, and honestly?

 How could I have ever thought I was complete without him?

So here's my wordless (ish) Wednesday:

One is fabulous.

One is precious and heartbreaking.

One makes me wrinkle my nose with laughter.

One is challenging and strong-willed and beautiful.
One is perfect.

But two?  Oh my goodness.  Two is twice as perfect.

Two is glee.

Two is best friends.

Two is hilarious.

Two is adventure.

Two is peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake and endless giggles.

Two is everything.

This just happened.

My road to fame and fortune is...well, ok, it's still basically imaginary and highly unlikely.  But LOOK!  Look at what just happened on Twitter:

If I haven't already mentioned it, I LOVE Mommy Shorts.  I read her daily.  So should you.  Seriously.

I'm doing a little happy dance in my office chair.

Evil Baby Glare-Off

Mommy Shorts is one of my favorite blogs, and you should totally go read it, because Ilana is hilarious and her daughter Mazzy is adorable.

Also.  Because she's hosting an Evil Baby Glare-Off contest.  And nobody, I mean NOBODY, glares like the Monster.  Especially in his newborn days.  This child was the frowniest, angriest-looking baby ever born.  His brow was constantly furrowed, his lips pursed, his eyes narrowed menacingly.  He was wholly disapproving of life in general.

Exhibit A (and I didn't even have to search for this photo, you guys.  They all look like this):

Silly monkey?  Silly monkey?  What am I, some kind of goofy circus animal here to amuse you?

Oh man.  I love that kid.

For the record, these days he's more of a Smile Monster:

And he's turning 1 on Friday.  Yeah.  That's ONE YEAR OLD.  A YEAR.

I'm busy this week crazily planning a monster-themed birthday party.  I know, a monster theme for the Monster?  So obvious.  But you have to remember, guys, his real name is not Monster, ok?  So it's not as on-the-nose cliche as it seems.

I'm making hand-sewn monster dolls as party favors.

source

Thank you, Pinterest.

I know what you're thinking.  "Alyssa is amazing.  Mother of the year.  Hand-made monsters?  Wow.  Just.  Wow."

Then you're probably thinking wait, what's the catch?  Because isn't this the same woman who posted this?  Don't worry!  I'm still basically a failure as a mother, because I'm totally phoning in the cake.  This is a big deal only because I'm an amateur cake decorator (maybe technically I'm a professional, since I have actually sold cakes for real money; is that the definition of professional?  If so I'm a professional cake decorator.  Ha.).  But I'm on hiatus these days because, hello, I have a one-year-old (sniff) and a kindergartner (SOB) in the house, and a full-time job, and wedding cakes stress me out.  So anyway.  I'm making cupcakes for this party.  Monster cupcakes.  I know, it's kind of a cop-out considering some of the birthday cakes I've made for the Princess:

Blue's Clues (2nd birthday)

Tinkerbell (3rd birthday)

Soooo...we're going to hide these photos from the Monster as he grows up and never speak of them again.  As far as he's concerned, the Princess has never had anything more complicated than a swirly cupcake with sprinkles on it for her birthday, ok?

Also?  It would greatly help his self-esteem if you would go vote for him at Mommy Shorts.  (You'll probably have to "like" Mommy Shorts on Facebook before you can "like" the photo.  You won't regret it.  And if you do, well, cast your vote and unlike.  It's not rocket science, people.)

And remember, this is the photo you're looking for.  Don't go "liking" any other photos, that defeats the purpose!  Clearly this is the winner: