A Walk in the Clouds

Sometimes, if you spend too much time in the weeds--in the mundane business of paying bills, returning emails and relentlessly pursuing an ever-expanding "to do" list--you forget to look at the sky.  To remember your passion, your direction, your dreams.

So today, I made a conscious decision to spend some time in the clouds.  To plan, to dream, to luxuriate in possibilities.

I highly recommend it.

Eating Frogs

Every morning, I try to eat a frog.  The earlier, the better.

I'm a procrastinator by nature.  I will do anything to avoid a task I find less than stimulating, whether it's crafting a difficult email, taking the car to get the oil changed or putting away my laundry.

I'm the same way with running.  I'm usually good about getting my runs in, but I purposely avoid certain routes that I know are challenging.  Namely, Bohler Road.

In the past two years, I've come a long way with my running and have learned to tackle some pretty substantial hills.  Cardiac Hill?  Easy.  Johnson Ferry Road?  A breeze.

But Bohler Road has been my nemesis.  A half mile of pure, inclined hell.  The last time I ran that route was back in June, and I bonked so hard I walked the two miles home and seriously contemplated calling a friend to pick me up.  Granted, I was hungover and it was 88 degrees outside, which probably contributed to my struggle.  But mentally, I couldn't bring myself to conquer it again, for fear of failure.  Until today.

You see, three weeks ago, a friend of mine was hit by a car while out for her morning run.  The same breezy routine repeated by thousands of runners across the country, but with a nightmarish ending.  Two weeks in a coma.  Still unable to speak or eat or walk. Months, possibly years of rehabilitation ahead of her.

It makes me scared, sad and hopeless.  What can you say or do to possibly heal that type of wound?  To try to make sense of such a random, senseless occurence?

For me, the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I can do, is run.  And run with a vengeance.  Safely and alertly, but with strength and purpose.  

And run I did.  Up that damn hill.  It wasn't fast, and it wasn't pretty, but I did it.  And was grateful for the opportunity to do so.

My Journey from Food Phobe to Foodie

Insomnia

It's 4:29 a.m., and I've essentially pulled an all-nighter.  I think it's been a decade--at least since graduate school--since I've done this, and well, I'm not as young as I used to be.  It's enough to make this weary publicist even wearier.

I didn't intend to stay up all night (or morning--I'm confused).  It all started yesterday morning, when my husband's alarm went off at 4:45 a.m.  I managed to go back to bed until 6:30 a.m., when his taxi driver called and apparently couldn't get in our gate.  And called and called and called, all while poor Mr. WP was walking around the community trying to find the wayward taxi.  Meanwhile, the dog was already stressed out, needed to go out, was blocked from the stairs by the cat, and gave up and puked all over the floor.  By 7 a.m., I figured sleep was futile.

So, I wandered down to my computer and started working.  And with the exception of a quick four mile run, I worked straight through to 7pm, when I left for an amazing night of music--U2--with 75,000 of my closet friends.

I left super keyed up, so what did I do?  Worked some more.  Until 4 a.m.  And here I am, at 5:17 a.m. and unable to fall asleep.

Did I mention that this weary publicist is supposed to run eight miles today?

Logging off and hoping sweet dreams find their way to me!

Growing Pains

I'm an accidental entrepreneur.  I never had intentions of building an empire--I really just wanted to make enough money to justify not needing a "real" job.

Fast forward two years, and well, here I am.  Working and networking non-stop, with a full roster of fabulous clients.  I feel incredibly blessed.  And slightly overwhelmed.

Enter the cash-strapped professional woman's solution to work overload--the intern. 

I've managed interns before.  I've managed staff before.  But it's an entirely different thing when your name and your brand are on the line.  I spent 45 minutes crafting the email with the first assignment for my intern--practically hypeventilating at giving up control.

And it wasn't so much about the intern or that particular assignment (which she completed flawlessly), but about all that that "needing help" implies.  That my business has grown large enough that I can't do it on my own.  Which means I may one day need a staff.  And have to manage that staff (gasp!).  And trade in the kitchen table for an actual desk (in an office?!?!) and ditch the pajamas for professional clothes (double gasp!).

I'm trying to take it day by day, but that "what ifs" are intriguing...

Full Disclosure

When I started blogging about two years ago, I chose a pseudonym--partly because it seemed literary and cool, partly to protect my privacy, but mostly because I was a tentative writer--scared to expose the real me to the big, bad virtual world.

So, no surprise that two years have passed, and two pseudonyms and three abandoned blogs later, I'm still using the same crutch.

I initially started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations about the crazed, unglamorous life of a publicist. I wanted a place to talk freely about my annoyances, grievances and failures--anonymously, of course, so as not to incriminate myself or my clients.

I initially shared my blog with a select few--an "easy" audience of very close family and friends. The response was overwhelmingly positive, and so I shared it with a few more people. And they shared it with others. And people kept saying "I thought your name was Laura. What's with this Carrie business?"

And then I realized it was yet another mask, an artificial layer to buffer me from potential criticism or commentary. Which is pretty much the opposite of what blogging--what writing, really--is all about.

As E.B. White wrote, "writing is both the mask and unveiling."

So I, Laura Scholz, am unveiling myself to you and committing myself fully to the words I'm putting out here in cyberland.

c'est moi

The New Media Revolution

I'm attending the New Media Conference today in Atlanta, and the irony is that I've neglected one my favorite social media platforms--this blog. And now I've been challenged by none other than the fabulous Chris Brogan to write a blog--today. Before he speaks. In half an hour. No pressure.

But here's the reality. When I joined MySpace back in 2006, I was simply following the pack. My sister had it, my friends had it, and well, I was between projects, and it was a great way to kill some time. Plus, you had to love the voyeurism--nothing like confirming your decision 20 years ago to break up with that high school boyfriend was a good one.

My ex, then a security analyst for a very conservative bank, hated MySpace. He thought I shouldn't be sharing ideas and pictures and personal information with strangers. He wanted me to delete my account.

I'm so glad I didn't listen to him.

It's now 2009, and while MySpace may be so three years ago, the principles that made it such a breakthrough medium are as popular as ever. The ability to form and build relationships with new people, to engage in deeper conversations about products and ideas, to have access to customers and influencers and all-around cool people you wouldn't otherwise have a chance to meet--this is what social media is all about. Sure, you can use it to stalk the mean girl from high school or watch the latest funny video on YouTube, but when you're willing to tranform yourself from passive bystander to engaged participant, it's revolutionary. And today's conversation with Chris Brogan is proof of its power.