Why it’s better to lean in?!  What does that even mean?

While it sounds like the latest pop culture buzz word nonsense, leaning in has always been a method of growth for me.

Just like a hand in poker you gotta decide:  All-in (lean in)? All-out (lean out)?

What’s it gonna be?

FUN ASIDE: In poker, the term means that a player has put the last of their chips into the pot. When a player is “all-in”, they can not perform another action because they don’t have any chips left.

Leaning in to your life, to your business, to your personality, to your whatever, means you’re all-in.

Being all-in is leaning in. Accepting that you’re going to slide ALL YOUR CHIPS into the pot. It means you’re jumping in faith, you’re stopping the nonsense of lesser actions that have less risk and smaller payoffs.

Leaning in can be the most courageous thing you’ll ever do.

You’re defying odds. You’re shutting out the noise of those who insist you shouldn’t – you mustn’t – you can’t.

You’re taking a risk of the lionhearted: DO! STAND! LEAN IN!

Makes my stomach squinchy just writing the words, because I know the cost of leaning in.

Have an EXTRA! personality and folks don’t get you? (um, HELLO!)

If yes, I know there have been many times you simply wanted to go along to get along – meaning you leaned out. You didn’t embrace you. You took the easier path. No judgement, just example.

Ever made a decision in your life that evokes unsolicited opinions of why you’re a dumbass? (yes – speaking from experience)

Folks love telling other folks how their decisions are boneheaded. And I get if it was more than you could handle. The stress of leaning in is not for the gentle with-the-flow manatees of this world. (now I wanna go swimming with a roly poly manatee)

Have an idea that’s before it’s time and you excitedly told others about it, and they looked at you, like, well, like you have too much time on your hands and HOOBOY!, that imagination! (over 30 years ago, after ruining Boy’s 1000th diaper because I had attached it too tight/loose the first time, I had a true lightbulb moment – reattachable tabs! no more waste! – now common ever’where.  ~facepalm~)

There is a simple truth I want to share with you, one that may change the course of your life: find the voice within and listen to it.

Listen with all your heart. That voice, your intuition, leans in. The voice knows all and wishes you’d take a hot second to have a sit-down. It knows it’s not easy (if it were easy…)

When I find myself leaning out, I know I’m scared and need to correct course.

Scared others will be on to me. (Imposter Syndrome)

Scared to push against the popular view of the day (it’s exhausting being a woman of strong opinion).

Mostly, though, when I lean out, I understand what leaning in means: hard work. (MOMMA NEEDS A NAP, YO.)

Life is f’in’ hard. Pop culture will insist you ride with the herd. Be the same. Talk the same. Dress the same. Think the same.

If that is your leaning in – BRAVO. If it isn’t, stop leaning out.

There’s no payoff in that torture.

Be uniquely you.

As Dr Seuss famously wrote:

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.

The good doc was on to something.

My advice? Lean in. Always lean in. That’s where the magic hides.

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I’m talking about lazy writing, specifically copywriting to drive sales.

Specifically, sales for the elderly and infirm like me.

Wait.

Nope, not like me AT ALL (here comes the pathetic and lazy part) – but since I fall into the Boomer bracket, judging by much of the copy aimed at us, we are doddering, drooling, can’t remember how to wipe our ass mouths, toys of Misfit Island.

Need an example?

The commercial that drives me to literally YELL obscenities is this one:

Garry can testify. It’s not pretty when this aberration of a sales pitch appears before me.

Let’s break the nonsense down:

~ It appears that granny has trouble with phones. ~sad face here~ But, not with driving a car, putting together a poppin’ outfit, being aware of her surroundings, or styling her fab hair – it’s just the danged smarty pants phone she can’t comprehend, cause she’s oooold. (it’s at this point I give the finger to the screen)

~ Grandma is obviously a dimwit, so why are you trusting your children with her if she can’t operate a silly o’l smart phone? THINK, WOMAN! Do you want a repeat of Timmy in the well?!

~ Condescending Daughter Voice: She ACTUALLY finds it easy to use. Grandma can find her way to a game, can drive the kidlets home AND finds the most simplistic of “smart phones” easy to use. You go, granny! You so clever!

~ It has a simple menu. Me thinks someone is projecting. Simple – just like her daughter.

~ Featuring the most revered 5-Star App that “turns the phone into a personal safety device.” Here in Texas, we call those “safety devices” guns. Granny be packin’. PEWPEWPEW

You see why I can’t…I just can’t.

I will offer that there are folks who do not embrace technology, who hate smart anythings, and maybe they’d prefer this phone. But framed in this way?

A: You old.

B: Your children worry.

C: They buy you a “smart” phone.

D: You immediately want to bring back corporal punishment.

As a copywriter, I am aware of what goes into selling. As a person of the Boomer generation, anyone who writes to us or about us in such a pathetic and lazy way has much to learn.

FOR THE RECORD: I understand they are relying heavily on children’s fear for their aging parent’s safety. The issue remains how they are portraying – what they actually think is true – about my generation.

Lawsy.

The very subject came up in a copywriting group and the thread was a goldmine of spectacular ways to pitch to the age group and not get purse-full-of-candy-whipped.

In part it asked (there was much emphasis on us wanting to be young again – I left that out, but just know it was there):

We are honing messages to go out to baby boomers and seniors in the healthcare market.

Have…a good resource for understanding psychographics specific to these groups?

Specifically we are keen to attract middle class/wealthy seniors and boomers and understand they have very different values/drivers.

~rubs hands together~

My response:

As a Boomer (tail-end), I can say for me and most I know – we DON’T want to be young again; we want to live as fully and be as healthy as we can in the years to come. We’re embracing our age, yet want to maximize our health, especially as each year passes.

We see ourselves as fucking trailblazers – 50 being the new 40 and all that BS.

Fear of not being able to live as we want, as we age, is real.

We’re watching our parents struggle in ways we don’t want to, so we try to do things they didn’t: eat right, exercise, preparing for the worst, yet hoping for the best, in terms of our physicality.

There is so much bullshit marketing aimed at the over 55 crowd, assuming we’re doddering and inept. Yeah, not so much. We don’t feel old (forever young in our minds), but we are aware of what is (aging) – an awareness that doesn’t come across in much of the ads. Ads we mock.

Speak to this group, sell to this group, on the fear and pain of losing what they’ve trained for their entire lives – or imagined they’ve trained for – living well until death. Think of Boomers as seasoned athletes of life and that hate losing anything and fear having to settle for less than what they want.

Don’t use false claims (we’re educated, too) or hyperbole (shit, I just knocked myself outta the game). Speak the truth – there’s plenty of pain in truth – plenty of fear in truth.

I’m going to assume that no matter what your age, you can find some sales copy that is beyond pathetic and lazy and not as clever as the writer intended (um, I have done that faceplant before). It’s not just a thing for me and my compadres, it’s a thing for all.

The advice I gave this copywriter (then agreed upon heartily by those within my bracket) is true for every market.

~ Cut the BS. We’re people. We have depth. Do your homework.

~ Speaking to a whole as a stereotype is so 1960s – it can be fun, but it’s weak as hell. Prepare to get trolled.

~ False claims or images – we can smell ’em. We will mock ’em. We will tell others about it, so they can mock ’em.

~ Your mom, your grandma, was right: the truth will set you free. Sell us on the fears of the truth we know to be, right now, where we find ourselves. Do that and ever’one will want you to write their copy, you golden goose, you.

Whether you’re a copywriter or a content creator, my rant against pathetic lazy writing that misses its intended clever target, holds.

For the sake of arguing my pointy-point, I’ve focused on Boomers, but here’s what I wanna know:

Share your age bracket AND a pathetic lazy attempt to sell your people.

Oh, man. The idea of it makes me giddy.

TELL ME!

 

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This post was going to be about Facebook bending us over in the trust department and Zuckerberg’s Facebooksplainin’ about how we allowed all they’ve done to us.

~friendly non-threatening face here~

He’s not entirely wrong.

We willingly let him in, thereby signing up for our personal Brutification (et tu, Mark?), so it seems childish to…

HANG ON.

Screw childish. Screw hitting “agree” to terms and services that left out the brazen bits. Screw anyone who thinks you’re too lazy/stupid/uninformed to care. What Facebook has done is scandalous, treacherous and outright illegalous (alliteration is hard, yo).

This post is so gonna be about that.

Salty? F-yeah, I am. Aren’t you?

You either throw a defiant finger on the way out – #deletefacebook – or you stay and drink from the tainted well.

I am salty over the blatant disregard for my privacy and the lies that have been offered in rebuttal.

Damnit, Mark.

NOTE #1: Looks like Facebook has been building their domination on the backend for years, expecting a #deletefacebook movement.

They’re banking on us not being able to untangle their sticky web into our lives.

My dilemma, and I bet yours, is staying in touch with those you love through social media.

NOTE #2: To be clear, I’m not naive. I know it’s more than Facebook. The Internet is so interconnected, you’d be a fool to think if you log on that you have any privacy.

You know, other than if you’re going commando at this very moment. I don’t think The Zuck knows about that. #dontaskdonttell

I want to delete my personal account, but two things stop me.

#1: Business pages must be tied to a personal page. (yes, I know the workarounds)

#2: You. My beloved babies.

NOTE #3: It has been brought to my attention that some folks think “babies” is condescending. If this is you, you’re in the wrong place, my sweet potato pie.

Shit.

I. Want. Out.

For those who are curious, I’m working on a plan to do just that. If it succeeds, I’ll come back here and teach you how to do it too – FOR FREE.

Why free?

Why not capitalize on your pain points, Zuck 2.0-style? Because I don’t roll that way. Ever.

Everyday, I’m twitchy with the newest bits of treachery. Albeit, never surprised. If you are, well, bless your heart, you are new here.

The question that haunts me: How can I ditch you and your lovely news of success and goals met? Your reaching out to community in times of pain or confusion? Of babies born, parent’s deaths or doggos doing the silliest of thangs?

How can I say I never want to be part of your online lives? A part of life’s yin and yang? Of joy and heartbreak?

How will I know when to pray for your needs? Your immediate heartaches? Or offer thanksgiving for the most. amazing. thing. ever!

If I left, I would would feel the emptiness in the depths of my bones and miss you.

My guess is you feel the same.

I want to punch Facebook in the throat and leave it gasping for life-giving breath, as we are left to make a choice between being connected and allowing their dishonest nonsense, or the heartache of turning out the lights and stopping the delightful party of online community.

Shame on you, Mark.

Shame on you for making us love you, then turning into the bad boyfriend we have no choice but to leave.

Don’t keep telling us you love us, that you are simply trying to connect the world in unity, then turn around and rifle through our bags looking for what you can sell, for what benefits you and betrays us.

Get the hell outta my house.

Yeah, I’m salty about my either or.

Are you?

Are you salty?

What the hell are you doing about it?

I ask in all sincerity.

WHAT ARE WE TO DO?

#DramaticMuchWoman

Y’all. Here’s what I know:

~ Mark f’d up – BIG TIME.

~ Greed of money or power will do that. Folks get where they think they can’t lose and feel entitled to what they what, when they want it – regardless of anything or anyone else.. Um, hello, Hillary.

~ We HAVE a choice.

Will we tell ourselves he is misunderstood and needs another chance, or allow our bad boyfriend the space to continue telling us one thing, yet doing another?

Let’s think this through and figure out a way to keep the love, the warmth, the doggo silliness.

Let’s ditch the rest.

I feel a brainstorm sesh brewin’.

Are you in?

 

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It’s late afternoon, I’m drinking a Corona, listening to the workers next door saw through their 100th piece of wood for the day, trying to put my thoughts together.

Thank goodness for Don Henley – the music of wide open spaces and road trips.

SHUT THE HELL UP, WORLD! MAMA’S TRYING TO WORK.

Yeah.

There be days, right?

Is your business in flux? Or, are you still floundering because you have no idea where your passion lies (or maybe, you love too much – there’s books for that).

I’m always filling notebooks full of notey notes. Cause let’s be honest, that’s what writers do when they’re confused or happy or ~any emotion here~ – they write.

Yet…

I’m flippin’ the literal and figurative bird to myself.

GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, PATTI!

Heh.

For the most part, my f’in stuff is together.

Yet…

There’s always a yet – am I right?

There’s a missing piece of the puzzle.  That last glorious piece that ends one journey and starts another.

Ever feel this way?

Have we lost the piece? Was it always missing?

Or, have we been trying to make a picture work that was never meant to be finished?

Is it you or the puzzle?

If you’re anything like me, you’ve been overturning cushions and searching in the dark corners of your psyche for the answers.

If you’re struggling to figure out if you should walk away from the puzzle on the table in front of you and crack open a new box of infinite pieces – IN 3D! – this post is for you.

Let’s delve into the universal question of how to decide what you want to do when there’s so much you want to do.

It comes down to this: You WANT to build something. You WANT to profit from the something you build.

But, you’re a soft fluffy kitteh chasing every sparkly thang.

I gotcha.

#metoo (too soon?)

How do you narrow “it” down?

Here are three easy/hard-as-hell steps to building something from which you can profit (by way of Ed Latimore):

#1: Pursue whatever interests you.

Simple enough.

We’ve talked about this before. Writing? Sports? Skipping rocks? Knitting beards?

Find what interests YOU. Do that.

Easy: you know what you like!

Start with a list. Get a new pen if you must. Maybe one that smells like bacon. Write down everything that interests you.

Nothing is too trivial (we’ll get to that in a moment).

#2: Hone one or two of those interests to a high level.

Hard-as-Hell: In the tiniest of nutshells, this means mastery of what it is that interests you.

Nope. Stop right there.

There’s no bullshit allowed here. No whining that you don’t have any interests.

YOU. DO.

I remember once someone telling me that the only interest they had was watching shows that made them laugh.

Waa-waa, can’t monetize that.

Um, ever heard of The People’s Couch?

Man, I loved that show. Real people watching T.V. and talking about what they’re watching. #brill

See last sentence in #1.

#3: Find a way to serve the world with this interest.

See #2.

I laughed every stinkin’ time I watched those real people dissecting what they were watching. It was simple and entertaining. It checked my mindless fun box and I was grateful to get a good laugh on those days.

Use what YOU love to do to serve the world.

So simps.

~aaaaand scene~

Narrowing down your passions with a path to monetizing is doable. You do have passion for something.

Make a list.

Master a couple of things on that list.

Offer it to us, the world.

No more puzzles. No more endings and beginnings. No more searching.

You have everything you need.

What are you waiting for?

Go.

Narrow it down.

Build.

Help someone else.

 

 

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Make friends with Death?

Hang with me for a few minutes and I’ll explain.

I’ve cheated death at least three times in my life.*

~ As a new (read: young) driver, I passed over an unmarked railroad track just as a train barreled through the intersection. There were no markers, no train whistle blowing, no indication of the danger I faced. Didn’t help that the view was blocked by dense foliage.

~ I survived melanoma in an age when the extent of treatment was to cut it out, hoping the doc got every mutant cell, then cross your damned fingers that it wouldn’t kill ya.

~ I survived an aggressive breast cancer and the brutal treatment that followed (I include the treatment because, honestly – that treatment).

Garry would add the time he had to preform the Heimlich maneuver on me, as I was choking on an apple. So, four times, if you’re persnickety.

Wanna know what I’ve learned from those experiences?

I’ve learned that death is closer than any of us think; we take for granted that we’re gonna live forever, that our time to slip from here to there is waaay down the line.

Nope. Not even close.

My enduring takeaway:

If you want to live well – make friends with Death.

What the hell?

BFFs with Death?

Well, maybe not that far.

I know this to be true – the longer you live, the closer to death you are. It’s coming for ever’one someway, somehow.

For me, death isn’t the end. It’s a move into a new home, with all the fancy-pants amenities. Sounds great, right?

Thing is, I like the home I’m in now. I don’t wanna move.

Yet. Death comes for all.

Instead of leading with fear, I suggest you embrace the knowledge that your life is gonna end and use that fact to fuel your life here – now.

Knowing there is an ending and a new beginning is freeing.

Decisions aren’t so weighty and hard-edged.

Plans can change. Mistakes can be patched. Life can be lived well, knowing that your friend Death is gonna show up at some point.

~ worst surprise party ever ~

Folks balk when I say “your friend” and I get that.

Many hate the idea of death and the end that it represents, so how could you possibly look at it in a friendly way? How could a shift in perspective help you to live well?

Easy. To make friends with Death is to take fear out of what comes for all, to take fear out of the equation of living. Once fear is out, that space is open to living well, even within the chaos that we can’t control.

Yep, Death will come for you. It will come for me.

I don’t want to leave any time soon. I love me some living.

Yet, I pray that when it does, I will have lived well.

Today, after cheating death at least three times and deciding to make friends with Death, I can say I have.

Have you?

 

 

* As one who has actually heard these words come from a doc’s mouth, “You may only have 6-months to live.” I can say that I had an instant and surprising regret on how I had lived my life up until that moment.

I had loved deeply – no regrets there.

I had been loved deeply – no regrets there.

I had a loving and supportive family – no regrets there.

I had chased after dreams and experienced deep and abiding friendships – no regrets there.

I had said “no” to the last piece of chocolate cake I had been offered – ALL THE REGRETS there.

I can honestly tell you that the ONE regret in my life had been that I had denied myself the pleasure of that last piece of cake.

Seems trivial, I know, but it obviously went deeper than cake. It spoke to denying myself something simple that made me happy, compounded by the fear that my life – and hopes of more cake – would soon end.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, WOMAN?!

Knowing Death is inevitable allows us the expanse to live well now – not just when we think death is close.

Have the cake.

 

 

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