Happy in Louisville

Today I had lunch with someone I'd never met.

Ten or so minutes into our discussion she said, "I don't even have to ask you if you're happy. When you talk about your work, you just smile. I can't remember meeting anyone who smiled as much as you do when they talked about their work."

And it's true. I am stupid happy about the way that my professional life has manifested recently. I am crazy in love with my job at Insider Louisville. I am thrilled to the teeth with how respected and appreciated I feel working for them.

I wake up in the morning (grumpy as always... I frigging hate mornings) and revel in the fact that I am going to work to be paid to write about how much I love Louisville.  I end each long day wiped out but also jazzed by the idea that I have done nothing all day except write about what's amazing about this city.

But... and this is a big "but"... I took this job thinking it wouldn't impact My Loueyville at all.  But it clearly has. I'm not posting as often as I normally do because I am sending all that energy to work at Insider Louisville. Monday through Friday for IL, I post anywhere from three to six posts every day about stuff that's going on in this city. It doesn't leave all that much room for me to hone in on truly brilliant events.

Bear with me, people. I am trying to strike a balance. My Loueyville is my first and most important love. But, Insider Louisville is paying my bills right now...

Give me a few more weeks to create a balanced internet presence.  It will happen, I promise. In the meantime... Hot damn, I really am very happy.

Thursday Randomness: What have I been up to?

Is it the middle of October already? My goodness. Time really flies when you're having fun.

And, gentle readers, I am having so much fun these days!

Sure, money is way tight, and I am still struggling with what to do about my lack of insurance. But if you zapped those two stressors from my life (anyone? anyone?), I'd be fool happy.

I'm totally crazy about my new freelancing life. I have the best readers (that's YOU!). My friends never cease to amaze me. And The Guy and I just passed the one year of dating mark, and I couldn't be more in love.

So, what else have I been up to? 

• Tomorrow marks the end of my second week of employment at Insider Louisville. Depending on who you talk to, I'm either the "Deputy Director of Content" or the "Associate Managing Editor." I'm not really hung up on titles; whatever you want to call me, I'm having a hell of a good time. I've been helping out around the joint, writing 2-5 articles a day, working on vetting freelancers and much more. We're still moving into our new office in NuLu, and every morning when I drive to work I have to pinch myself. Ever since my job hunt began, I've had a superficial goal of either working downtown or in NuLu, and here I am with my own desk, an endless supply of good coffee, and a job that I can't wait to go to when I wake up. My bosses respect me. I feel like I add a lot to the organization. And I'm getting paid to do cool stuff and write about it. My fingers and toes are crossed that this turns into a full-time gig with benefits someday soon. (And my fingers and toes are crossed that I continue to be this happy with this job).
• For the past six weeks or so, I've been working part time as a "Twitter Specialist" for 520 East Brands. Shane is a dream to work for, and I'm thrilled to be the "twitter voice" for many beloved local and national brands. I knew one day my Twitter addiction would pay off!
• Chipman Creative was hired two months ago to "ghost blog" for local real estate agent, WordCamp maestro, and fellow Start-Up Weekend attendee, Scott Hack. We did the true "ghost" thing for a little while, but over the past few weeks, we've started to put my name on the posts. So if you're looking for more of my posts, follow Scott's blog. And obviously, if you have any real estate needs, you should contact Finish Line Realty. Scott is awesome.
• Last Saturday, my Louisville, Not Kentucky co-host Linda and I worked a booth at the Flea off Market. We signed people up for our mailing list and interviewed people for Episode 7 and beyond. We met lots of listeners and even got to interview the Mayor. It was a beautiful day, and we're looking forward to doing it again in November.
• Tuesday, a group of Loueyville readers and friends volunteered to answer phones at the NPOTM, Louisville Public Media fund drive. Thanks to Kara, Dawn, Bethany, Stephanie, Stephen, Ashlee, and Linda for coming along. We ate lots of pizza and talked to some great LPM supporters on the phone.

So now, besides this blog, my twitter, my facebook, and my pinterest, you can now catch me on Insider Louisville, the Finish Line Realty blog, Louisville Not Kentucky, and as the voice of brands you know and love on Twitter. 

Hope you all have had an excellent fall so far! Thank you for your support!

New Venture: Chipman Creative

A few months ago, I decided to make a giant leap... one without a safety net. I decided to leave my 13+ year teaching career and try something new. I loved teaching. I still love teaching. But I have so many, many passions. I figured it was about time to see if I could turn some of those other passions into something... bigger.

I've been a writer ever since I was a child. In high school, I wrote my first novel-- forever lost in the great Macintosh Crash of '96. In college, I wrote melancholy poetry (who didn't?) but was chosen to study with the late, great, wicked Kenneth Koch all four years, so I must have had "something." I majored in English at Columbia, and I got my Master's in English from the University of New Orleans. I'd completed close to half of my credits for an MFA in Fiction at UNO, when the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina blew me to Louisville.

As a teacher, my passion was working with students on their writing. In my extracurricular life, writing has been my constant. I've been to countless writing workshops, retreats, and residencies. And as a result of being a teacher and student of writing for so very long, I've become a crack editor, proofreader, and writing coach.

I've parlayed those skills into freelance writing and editing work over the past decade-plus, but in a very spotty, haphazard way. Shortly after college, I ghost-wrote a YA horror novel that was published by Harper Collins (thankfully, long out of print). I edited a self-help book written by a businessman/race car driver. For years, I was the go-to editor for an annual $52million+ government grant application by a financial company in New Orleans. I've been writing freelance for The Louisville Paper off and on since the paper's inception.

When I took my giant leap, I knew part of that leap had to be finding some way to make this passion I have for writing and working with writers something more concrete.

So, welcome to the world, Chipman Creative, my new writing/editing/social media freelance business.

Storytelling has always been an integral part of my life. And I believe, passionately, that storytelling is becoming more and more integral to the decisions we make as consumers and to the way we market as businesses and brands.

When I talk to someone who has eaten at Harvest for the first time, usually the first thing they mention is what they thought of the meal. But what everyone talks about after that-- without fail-- are the gorgeous photos on the walls of the farmers who supply the raw ingredients of their meal. They talk about the giant map that tells them from which farm various ingredients are sourced. I have no ties to Harvest-- this is just an unveiled compliment. Harvest is doing it right. They're telling a fantastic story. And it's a story that builds loyalty and confidence.

I follow the blogs and tweets of my favorite businesses and brands. My loyalty soars when they tell me a good story or give me good, usable information. My heart sinks when their blogs or tweets are trite, ineffective, irrelevant, or full of errors.

In addition to standard writing and editing services, Chipman Creative offers ghost-blogging and ghost-tweeting subscriptions. I want to help you tell your story. Every business has a story to tell, whether you're a store, a restaurant, a lawyer, or a dentist. A well-written and researched blog or twitter feed can be an invaluable marketing tool.

If you follow this blog, you've been following my story and my brand... some of you for years. I hope you'll check out Chipman Creative and think of me when you have writing/editing/proofreading/social media needs.

Email me at lou [at] loueyville.com if you would like to see a rate sheet or my resume.

I'm super excited about this new venture. I look forward to working with you.

Happy Louiversary, Lou!

Me & Flat Stanley by the river.  (flatstanleylouisville.blogspot.com)

Six years ago today, a very sad and bedraggled Lou & a less sad and less bedraggled Roommate arrived in Louisville with their moving truck and two cars. It was a day very much like today-- hot, hot.

Neighbor 1 from across the street, an able-bodied dude, immediately offered an extra hand with the heavy furniture.

Neighbor 2 from next door, a delightful older woman who has since moved-- we miss her every day, came by later with a cheese pizza and a six-pack of beer in a cooler with ice "in case we didn't have a fridge yet."

By nightfall, Neighbor 3 from three doors down showed up with a fistful of takeout menus, just in case we didn't feel like cooking as we settled in.

The next day, Neighbor 4 from two doors down, came by with a gigantic houseplant.

I had planned on spending the rest of my life in New Orleans, but Katrina and my subsequent job loss made it too hard to stay. I was not happy about leaving-- I was miserable. But the school here in Louisville that recruited me and wined me and dined me and gave me all kinds of reasons to move to this town that I knew NOTHING about, promised me that I'd find a good and welcoming home here.

Honestly, it took a couple of years-- a couple of years and the creation of this blog and the discovery of our local Twitter community-- before I really found a HOME here. But find a home I did. And now I am one of Louisville's most passionate cheerleaders.

But those first few days, when my neighbors drifted over and welcomed us were a good indication of what was to come. Lots of people scoff at the idea of Louisville as Compassionate City, but I am a believer.

This is the city where my neighbors welcomed us in a way that we would normally chalk up to a "Leave it to Beaver"-style fiction. This is the city that, when a tree crushed my house during the Hurricane Ike wind storm, sent even more of my neighbors over to my house to help me clear out the rubble and be safe. This is also the place where, when I was diagnosed with cancer and had no family and VERY few friends nearby to care for me, my students and their families, my colleagues, and near-strangers stepped up and filled the void.

I love Louisville for so many reasons. But reason #1 will always be the people. I love my Louisvillagers.

I still miss New Orleans. But Louisville is my hometown now. My job search 6 years ago could have landed me any number of places (the city that ended up in second place was Washington, DC). I am so, so very lucky that it landed me here.

Thanks, Louisville.  Love you.  Hope to keep finding ways to give back because you have given me so much.

Personal: Brief Hiatus Part II

When people talk about "the best" person they've ever known, it's often hyperbole. I mean, how do you quantify "goodness," right?

But this weekend, I lost the best person I have ever known. My grandmother, Evangeline, died, and I am plowed under. She'd been sick for a while. And she was... heck, she was 89, so this isn't a big shock. But for most of my adult life, I have always been able to drive myself to tears and fits of morbid sorrow merely by thinking, "My goodness, what in the world is it going to feel like when I find out that Vange has died?"

And now it's a reality.

And yes, I called her "Vange." My father, her son, passed away from cancer when I was three, and for a solid decade after that, my mom and I lived a town away from Vange and my grandfather (Chip-- also my preferred nickname). And we probably spent four nights a week at their house-- my mom and I-- for dinner. And during the summers it was more than that-- they had a pool and a dock on a pond where I would stand for hours and fish (always catch and release-- always sunfish and a tiny bass now and then).

I was-- I am-- the oldest of her thirteen grandchildren (sometimes I round up to 15... I don't know why). She and Chip had five sons, and when I was born (she always told me), my dad called from the hospital and said, "We had a GIRL." And Vange said the appropriate congratulatory things, and my Dad interrupted and said, "Did you hear me, Ma? I said we had a GIRL!" And she said, from that point on, I was the girl she hadn't had.

I always felt so special to Vange. Because I was the oldest, I was brought up in a family of adults.  Hence the fact that I called my grandparents "Vange" and "Chip"-- what my mother called them.  The rest of my cousins called them the Portuguese "Vovo" and "Vovo"-- yeah, they look the same, but grandmother is "vohvoh" and grandfather is "voovoo."

But I have no doubt that Vange made ALL of her grandchildren feel like they were the most special to her. She was just that kind of person. Several times, when I was a little kid, the UPS man or the flower delivery person tried to deliver something while we were sitting down to dinner, and she invited them to join us-- and they did! She was the kind of person who, if your friend's sister who'd she'd never met just had a baby... she'd come over your friend's sister's house, bring some chocolate-chip cookies, and offer to sit awhile with your friend's sister's baby while your friend's sister took a nap.

It's hard to quantify goodness. But I can without any hesitation or hyperbole say that this woman was the very best woman that I have ever known. Or probably will know.

And there is some solace knowing that she died a woman who was SO loved by SO many.  Her goodness did not go unappreciated.

One of my favorite Vange stories...

It was shortly after Chip died-- suddenly, around 15 years ago... he was a plumber, and bless his heart, he had a heart attack while fixing an old lady's toilet-- that my cousin Beth (grandchild #2) and I stayed the night with Vange.  Somehow we ended up watching the movie JERRY MCGUIRE with her. If you know the movie, you know it opens with Tom Cruise having particularly vigorous sex... headboard blamming, big ol' holy-crap sex.  And Vange was on the couch between me and Beth.  And as the scene ended, she hugged us both close-- wait, I should say that both Beth and I had lived with boyfriends at this point... Vange couldn't be under the illusion that we were pure as the driven snow-- she hugged us close and said, "I just want you girls to know that sex doesn't have to be like that.  It can be a beautiful and gentle thing."

Friends, I'll be okay. But I can honestly say that a world without Vange is a world that has been diminished so much. I'll probably be absent from this blog this week.

Unconditional love.  I am so grateful that I had thirty-mumble-mumble years of unconditional love from this woman.  I hope all y'all have someone who gives you that.  Love them hard.

Personal: brief hiatus

Dear readers,

I hate that this is my 700th post.

I am off to New England for a week or so to visit my ailing grandmother and see my family. It is likely that things will either slow down considerably or cease temporarily on this blog. I will probably still be relatively active on Twitter (@loueyville)... but maybe not.

Lots of unknowns.

In the meantime, be well and happy and enjoy Louisville without me for a little while. Go see FUTURA by Theatre [502] next weekend... you won't regret it. Go order the mussels at La Coop and get the Elvis on Bareback appetizer at St. Charles Exchange and say hi to our awesome golden David while you're down by 21c.  And soak up the sun! It's going to be rainy and in the 60's in New England.

Loads of love to y'all,

Melissa

Personal: Meeting Roommate

Ten years ago this week, I met my best friend. This picture of us was taken that week. When Roommate and I met, I was living in New Orleans, and he was living in Knoxville; he was working for the Writers Retreat Workshop, and I'd won the inaugural Robin Hardy New Student Scholarship for the event. We'd corresponded via email before we met, and I remember thinking, "Oh, this guy is great." And when I met him in person, it was, like, crazy fireworks and rainbows.

I live with my ex-boyfriend. And that is, by any estimation, a little insane. Roommate and I lasted only three or so years romantically; but our love for each other was so solid, so real, that it seemed wrong and weird to call the friendship quits too. I think that's pretty awesome.

Every so often, Roommate gets it in his head that it's time for him to move out or change cities (usually, this is at least in part because some woman has worked her way into his heart....). I promise you this: if and when the time comes for him to move on... and I'm pretty sure it will come some day...  I will be, like, whoa devastated. We've been through some stuff together, Roommate and I: my divorce, Katrina, my cancer, his heart attack, some heartbreaks, a couple of family deaths, a miscarriage. But BFFs through all of it.

Thanks for everything, Roommate, my chosen brother.

Personal: Thank you... all of you.

Four years ago today, I was teaching an afternoon class and noticed out of the corner of my eye that my cellphone message indicator was blinking green. I knew what it was. I'd been expecting the call. I took a deep breath, shook off the willies and the encroaching tears, and finished the lesson on The Great Gatsby. I shooed my students out of the room a little early, I admit. Retrieved the message. And through tearless, breathless astonishment, called back the nurse who'd called me.

She affirmed what the message had told me, what the biopsy had told the doctor.

Breast cancer. Invasive.

Four years ago today, I am quite sure I can say that I knew none of you. And that just about none of you knew me. It was the baby days of the blog, and I'd yet to embrace Louisville's budding social media community. I'd rolled my eyes at Twitter, only used Facebook for old friends. I'd yet to dent the local blogosphere. I was less than two years a Louisvillager, and truly, with the obvious exception of Roommate, who had moved here from New Orleans with me, I had almost no friends at all.

I did not go through my cancer experience alone. From the uncle who flew down for my mastectomy because my father-- his brother-- passed away when I was a child, and he felt I needed a "father figure" by my side, to the mother-in-law of a near-stranger who heard through the grapevine that I didn't have a ride to chemo and picked me up, talked to me for the 5 hour treatment, and later brought me brownies, I was blessed with unexpected support. My students and their parents and my colleagues at school fed me two or three times a week for four months. When I insisted that I wanted to go back to school in August, halfway through my treatments, my school did me the great service of refusing to let that happen and paying me my full wage for part-time work until I did return in October, even though they didn't have to. Roommate, of course, was there for much of the journey. He was the one who shaved my head when the first clumps started to fall out in early July-- in the backyard, as I sobbed, and as maybe he cried a little too.  He was the one who held me four years ago today and assured me that everything would be okay. Mama Lou was a champ, heroic even for a woman who lost her husband to cancer when she was just 26 and now was watching her only child suffer.

That picture above is from the very early days of my treatment. I'd heard that the Newport Aquarium had a penguin encounter program. I told Roommate, "I want to pet a penguin," and he made it happen. Much like he made Bonnaroo happen just 12 days after my mastectomy-- he wrote the organizers, and they upgraded us to VIP handicapped access... I was stoned out of my gourd on painkillers much of the time, but it was amazing.

When I think back on those days, I am rarely bitter or angry. Yes, I hate that I had cancer. I hate that I lost my (huge, beautiful-- just being honest-- the last bra I bought was a 32-E) breasts. I am brutally indignant that my cancer care is still causing me financial trouble; the only way I could be even more passionate about National Health Care is if it could possibly be retroactive.  But all in all, cancer, on a day-to-day basis, is just something that happened to me. It killed my dad. It happened to my grandmother. It happened to my uncle. It happened AGAIN recently to a fellow young breast cancer survivor friend. It happens. It sucks, but it happens.

What makes me sad about Melissa-circa-four-years-ago, though, is that she didn't have you. These days when I tweet or blog about having strep throat or preparing for a root canal, I have dozens of people who offer soup or advice or a ride to the doctor. When I think of that one week that found me calling around to cancer support groups, teary-eyed, looking for a volunteer to drive me home from chemo... when I realize that today I am 100% sure that a single tweet would have solved that problem... I am so sorry for the four-years-ago-me.

I am so lucky.

This year, on the week of my Cancerversary, because of this blog and because of social media, I could be busy celebrating every single day with people I love. Roommate, who has been here through thick and thin. My boyfriend, who is the first I've had since cancer and who makes my hot flashes, memory loss, and wonky body feel utterly inconsequential and sometimes endearing. My amazing friends who want to celebrate this Cancerversary-- not even a milestone year-- by taking me out to the fanciest restaurant in town... every email and text about it makes me tear up with gratitude. Four years after my cancer experience, I am blessed with a stable of amazing friends and acquaintances-- nearly all of whom I've met because of this blog-- beyond what I could have ever imagined during those lonely, lonely days of surgeries and chemo and recovery.

The pop culture cancer narratives of people like Lance Armstrong lead people to believe that cancer makes people better, stronger, more courageous. And that may be true for a handful of folks, and I admire those people. I do.

But four years after I was diagnosed with cancer, I can honestly say I am a different person now. A better person. A stronger person.  A more courageous person.  But it's not because I had cancer.  It is because of you. The hundreds of you who read every blog post. The 1800+ of you who follow me on Twitter. I am a better, different person because of you. You have created a community for me. You have become my friends both online and in person. We're a strange sort of family. And because of you, I am almost never lonely. In fact, unless I choose to be, I can't imagine ever being lonely again.

Four years after the day I first heard the words "you have cancer," I am healthy, and I am infinitely happier. My hair is long again. My heart is full. My life is infinitely improved by your presence in it.

Thank you, readers. Thank you, followers. Happy Cancerversary to me.

The Voyage Continues: #cryptictweets Explained

"The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Well, I'm not quite at a hundred tacks yet, but...

If you follow me on Twitter, over the past couple of weeks you've seen me post a number of #cryptictweets about making a major life change. Now that all the people who need to know do know, I can de-cryptify those #cryptictweets.

After twelve years of being a high school teacher, and after almost fourteen years of teaching in general, I have decided it's time to make a change. So last week, I informed the powers-that-be at the Meatspace Workplace that I would not be returning to teach for the 2012-2013 school year. Today I told my colleagues and my kids.

This is absolutely NOT me saying that I am sick of teaching. I love teaching more today than I did during those first few honeymoon years. Nearly every day in my classroom is a good day, a happy day, an exciting day.  Teenagers inspire me, and I will continue to champion them in whatever way I can.

This is also absolutely not me saying that I'm sick of my particular school. The school and the school community have been very good to me over the past six years. I leave with a heavy heart.

This is me saying that I need to make a change. It's me saying that after six years of teaching my students about the Transcendentalists, maybe I need to actually walk the "Trust thyself" walk.

So, I am taking a leap without a safety net at the moment. I've given my notice, but I'm not sure what the next step will be.

That's SO exciting.

That's also wicked, wicked scary.

But, dear readers, there is once thing I know for sure*: I'm staying in Louisville.

I moved here almost six years ago because of this job. I knew nothing about Louisville. I knew the big bat, I knew bourbon, I knew Kentucky Derby.  That's all.  I came here as a brokenhearted, frustrated member of the Katrina diaspora, but over the years I've fallen in love with my new home. And now I want to see what else I can do here in Possibility City. (Boy, does that moniker take on way more meaning to me right now...)

It's partly because of this blog that I have the courage (or foolhardiness) to take this scary leap. This blog has introduced me to so many wonderful aspects of this city and to so many inspiring people. You, dear readers, have kept me excited and curious over these past four and a half years and 643 posts. I have an amazing network of friends and cheerleaders, largely thanks to my blogging and tweeting habits.  Never in all of my life have I had so many people rooting me on.

So, thank you. If you're reading this blog post, you-- yes YOU-- helped give me the courage (or foolhardiness!) to make this big decision.

I'll have more to say about this further on down the road. But, in the meantime, keep me in mind, okay? If something comes up that has "Lou" written all over it-- drop me an email or tweet me a tweet.

I'm so excited for my next big adventure (and also terrified).

In the words (word, actually. singular) of my favorite Doctor: "GERONIMO!"

*Ok, I say "for sure," but if Leonard Cohen and calls me up and offers me six-figures to be his personal assistant, I'm going to have to take him up on that. Then again... if I'm making six-figures, I can probably keep up on my mortgage here in Louisville...  so technically I will still live here, even if I'm working, you know, in a Buddhist monastery or something. 

Request for Donations: Breast Cancer Support Group Auction

Friends and Dear Readers,

It's silly to re-invent the wheel, especially when you invented the wheel in the first place.

When I sat down to write a post asking for donations for the upcoming Young Survivors Auction, I realized that I had said very many of the same things last year. And here's the thing about last year's post-- it worked! Last year my request for donations both here and on Twitter resulted in donations that raised more than $1000 for the Young Survivors. One of my proudest moments as a blogger.

The Young Survivors annual silent auction is right around the corner. It's February 17 at the Frazier Museum. I'll blog about the actual event closer to the date, but in the meantime, if you're a business owner or you make stuff or you have services you can donate to support this group, I hope you will consider doing so. It means so much to me.

Below is the text of last year's request (updated for appropriate dates). Whatever I can do to facilitate your donation, I will do. Email me at lou (at) loueyville.com for more information...

Friends and dear readers,


If you read this blog with any regularity, you know that I'm a happy, healthy breast cancer survivor.  Likewise, if you read this blog, you'll know that I've gone on something of a "pink diet" (or really, "pink fast") in the past year or so.  When I was newly diagnosed and in treatment, I felt compelled to show up at every "pink" event, to walk in every "pink" walk, and to avail myself of all the fantastic free services offered in our city to cancer patients and survivors. But I always ended up getting crazy weepy at those events, listening to other breast cancer survivors tell their stories.  I'm also the kind of person who is deeply uncomfortable with the idea of being called "heroic" just because I survived cancer-- and a lot of survivor rhetoric lapses into that (the doctors were heroic; my friends and family were at times heroic; I just muddled through the best that I could).  Because I'm so shy, support groups and organizations made me snap over to social anxiety overload as soon as I walked into the door.


But when I was first diagnosed-- like the very day that I was diagnosed-- Norton Hospital put me in touch with Megan Schanie of the Young Survivors Group.  And she took me out to lunch and told me what to expect from surgery, chemo, fake boobs, the works.  And for the course of my treatment, the Young Survivors group was a fabulous source of support to me (right down to Megan's mother-in-law who fed me and took me to treatments when my own mom or Roommate couldn't be around).


And the Annual Young Survivors Auction is one "pink event" that I feel passionately about supporting.  First of all, it's a damned good time, and most years I come away with really good deals on silent auction goods.  Secondly, it supports a cause that truly helped me and truly helps a lot of young women.


So if you're a business owner or your make stuff or you have services you can offer to this group, I humbly ask that you donate something to the silent auction to be held at the Frazier Museum on February 17.  It doesn't matter how small your donation is.  Goods, services, gift certificates, experiences...  And I'll make it as easy on you as possible; I'm happy to come to you at your convenience and pick up the item.  These donations are tax deductible and a Young Survivors rep will provide you acknowledgment in writing of your donation.  Email me at lou [at] loueyville.com if you are interested or if you have any questions.


And for the rest of you, mark your calendars:  February 17 at the Frazier.  A good time and a great cause.


Thanks.  Y'all rock.
xo
Lou

Personal: A Holiday Season Reminder

Even in the best of years, I'm just not a Christmas-y kind of person. When I was a kid, it seemed like holidays-- Christmas and Thanksgiving and Fourth of July-- had a Norman Rockwell sort of flavor to them. I had a big family. I was the oldest of a whole passel of kids. We lived in New England, which for some reason makes everything seem a little more Norman Rockwellish. But as an adult, I have admit that I could pretty much take or leave just about every holiday.

This year, I had a bunch of people over the night before Thanksgiving, and that felt more Thanksgiving-y than any actual Turkey Day meal I've had in a long time. New Years is overhyped and over-promised. And one of the many downsides of being childless is that Christmas just really doesn't feel like Christmas when there aren't little kids around.

But this year, my inner Grinch has been having a field day. Money woes and work angst have been amplifying each other into a feedback loop of crushing stress. In some ways, this Christmas was poised to be the least joyful holiday ever.

And I'm not saying I've figured out how to rescue it. I'm trying. Only time will tell. What I am saying is that I am going to work harder to have my long-lost inner Buddy Elf vanquish my long-standing inner Grinch.

Tonight I bopped on over to my personal Facebook page and saw that my Aunt KL posted this picture:

This is Christmas 1960. The tallest one is my dad. The other little dudes are his four younger brothers (Aunt KL is married to the littlest one). And when I saw this picture,  I was floored.

Dad died when I was three; he was twenty-seven. I was born on his 24th birthday. I think about him a lot. But I don't really ever think about him being a kid. A kid who had brothers. A kid who enjoyed Christmas. A kid who had awesome big ol' glasses that hipsters in 2011 would covet.

And my lord... if you've ever met me, you're probably freaked out by the resemblance too.

Anyway, I kind of needed that kick in the pants. Needed to be reminded to be grateful for the holiday season, regardless of the feedback loop of stress.  Needed to be reminded of how many more Christmases I've gotten to enjoy than my dad did.

So I'm going to try to do better, be merrier. I know so many people who are facing a far more challenging holiday than I am, so I need to do more than to just do better-- I need to be better.

Tomorrow I'm hoping to make some headway banishing my Bah-Humbugs by seeing Actors Theater's A Christmas Carol with The Guy. How do you bring cheer to your winter holiday of choice when you're just not feeling cheerful?  Do you have any recommendations that are bound to put some jolly in my soul?

600th Post: Social Media is SOCIAL

So, I've been trying to figure out something special to do for my 600th post.  But I realized that just about everything I'd want to say in my 600th post, I already said in my Technology Boot Camp speech at the Louisville Public Library earlier this month. Why reinvent the wheel, right?  So here in its almost-entirety is the speech that I gave: (WARNING: Personal stuff lies ahead...)

If the job of Official Spokesperson for Social Media ever opens up, I think I’d have a pretty good crack at the job. It’s not that I do social media particularly well; it’s that I couldn’t be a bigger fan. This may sound like hyperbole, but it’s 100% true: social media is responsible for 90% of what’s really good in my life right now. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

On Twitter we use hashtags to add nuance to the 140 character messages we type. Like #fail, means that you acknowledge that what you just said paints you in a bad light. Or #tmi, means that you know that what you tweeted constitutes Too Much Information.

Another hashtag is #humblebrag.  That means you know that the accomplishment that you just tweeted about sounds like bragging, but that you understand how lucky you are.

So I’m going to hashtag this next little bit: #humblebrag

Over the past two months or so, I’ve been able to do the following things courtesy of my blogging and tweeting habits:

1. I attended all three days of IdeaFestival with an all-access media pass.
2. I’ve had two contests on my blog: one to give away a family four-pack of tickets to Max & Ruby Live and one to give away two all-access passes for the Louisville International Film Festival.
3. I’ve seen Sense & Sensibility, Tom Sawyer, and Dracula at Actors.
4. I was invited by the Louisville Convention and Visitors Bureau to be one of two local bloggers at a dinner for national media at the Chef’s table at the English Grill at the Brown.
5. I’ve put together a group of readers of my blog to volunteer at the Louisville Public Media fund drive next week.
6. I’ve been asked to be a staff writer for a new local print newspaper and am working on my third article for them.
7. I’ve had a couple really nice dates with a really nice guy.
8. And perhaps my favorite... after reading my blog post about Rosanne Cash’s upcoming appearance at the KY Authors Forum, the director of the forum contacted me and said she liked the post so much she wanted me to be her guest at the $100 per person VIP dinner for Rosanne Cash, one of my heroes.

Granted this has been an unusual month. But a remarkable one too.

But when it boils down to it, both my blogging habit and my Twitter habit were born out of adversity.

I started blogging on September 2, 2005.  I’d been living in New Orleans for eight years, and on September 2, 2005, I was stranded in Florida with no idea if my home was destroyed, no idea if all of my friends had gotten out of the city before Katrina. I was sick of fielding phone calls and emails from concerned friends and family from all over the country-- and of repeating the same sorry story of fear and sadness and uncertainty. So I started a blog called “Displaced,” and I told everyone I knew that they could check up on me by going to the blog. That way I only had to tell each story once. It was a blog of necessity, but it became a chronicle of my life first as a Katrina evacuee, then as one of the first wave of people to return to the city after the storm, then as someone who lost her footing a bit, and finally as one of the many people who were forced to move elsewhere-- in my case Louisville-- ten months after Katrina.

Displaced consists of a little over 100 blog posts. And no joke, every time I have ever gone back to try to re-read all of those posts, I break down and stop after maybe 20. There are posts I haven’t read since I posted them six years ago. But I am so grateful that they exist.

But, as I said, I moved to Louisville under duress. I didn’t know anything about the city, and I didn’t know a single person here. And I was miserable. So my second blog, My Loueyville, the blog that got me invited to speak to you today, was likewise started as a response to adversity. One day, I decided that I was tired of being miserable, and that I had to make a concerted effort to find things I loved about this city. I started a blog that would celebrate the culture and character of Louisville.

My first blog post was about how much I love going to Bats games.

I’ve since written close to 600 posts, but for a good 200 of those I was blogging just for myself. It was only maybe three years ago that people started reading My Loueyville in earnest. My first indication of this was when Actors Theatre contacted me and asked if I wanted media passes for a show. I’ve been a theatre geek since high school, so I’d been blogging about a lot of theatre productions. Someone in the PR office of Actors took notice and looked me up. Since then I’ve racked up media passes.  Broadway Across America, Churchill Downs Entertainment, Walden, Actors. For more than a year, my blog was one of three featured blogs on the Possibility City website.

All of this was an unintended consequence of a lonely, sad woman starting a blog that she hoped would help change her mind about where she was living. And of course, it worked. I’m madly in love with Louisville. I consider myself one of the biggest cheerleaders for this city. And because of this blog, not only did I come to see the city through new eyes, but I’ve been given the opportunity to see more and do more than I would have been able to afford on a teacher’s budget.

But blogging isn’t the only social media that’s changed my life.

The blog helped change the “sad” part of this “lonely, sad woman’s” situation. It was Twitter that changed the “lonely” part. And again, my twitter habit was also born of adversity.

2008 was not a good year for me. In May, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. On September 14, while I was napping on my couch, recovering from a particularly brutal round of chemo, Hurricane Ike ripped through the city and toppled a 30’ tree onto my house, crushing it. I was fine, but I was faced with 8 months of living in a hotel while I waited for my house to be rebuilt.

If I wasn’t lonely before-- and I was-- I became desperately lonely while living in the Residence Inn downtown. There’s no loneliness like hotel loneliness. And one day, I got an email from another local blogger whom I’d never met-- Michelle from Consuming Louisville. She was writing as a response to a fan letter I'd written her, and at the end of the email, she asked if I was on Twitter. I wasn’t. I was a frequent Facebook user, and I saw Twitter as a frivolous waste of time. But because of her, I signed up and basically copied the list of people she followed.

And I started making friends.

The difference between Twitter and Facebook is this: on Facebook, you follow people you already know. High school friends, college friends, work friends. These people are or have been your friends at some point-- that’s why you follow them. On Twitter, there’s no obligation. When you follow someone, they don’t have to confirm you or follow you back. So you tend to follow people who say interesting things. And people who say interesting things on Twitter tend to be interesting people in real life. You’re most likely never going to make a new friend on Facebook-- I never have. But making new friends is kind of what Twitter is all about.

Six months after I joined Twitter, maybe less, I had a group of friends here in Louisville. That group has grown and continues to grow. And today I can say that my friends are the best, most diverse, interesting group of people I’ve known in my life. If you had told little nerdy high school me that in her thirties her social life would be as remarkable and important as it is now, she would have said you were crazy. And out of all the wonderful friends I have in Louisville, I only knew two of them before Twitter and the blog.

I’m not a computer geek. But blogger and twitter are so easy, and when things were tough for me, they my life easier. When I had cancer, I started a private blog for my family and friends called Girls Gone Bad where I posted about my surgeries and treatments. When my best friend moved to Australia while I was recovering from chemo, I started a private blog just for him called Watch My Hair Grow where I posted a picture of myself every week, so he could see how quickly I was going from bald to not-bald.

Social Media is called Social Media for a reason. It’s not about hiding behind a computer screen and interacting with the world. It’s about reaching out into the world, making connections, and finding people and places where you belong.

In Which I "Come Out"...

Hello. My name is Melissa. And I'm a blogger.

Hi, Melissa!

I've been writing Loueyville anonymously for more than four years and more than 550 posts. I chose to write as "Lou" because I'm a teacher, and it was really important to me to keep my "lives" separate. I was always afraid that I might say something that I wouldn't want my students, their parents, or my bosses to see. But, frankly, in those four-plus years, I don't think I've published one truly scandalous post. Which is kind of a bummer, if you ask me.

But as I continue to make new friends via this blog and via Twitter, it's become increasingly difficult to separate my online life from my offline life.  Heck, I'm betting half of you reading this post already knew my real name. But most importantly: gosh darn it, I'm pretty proud of this blog; 550+ posts is nothing to sniff at. I work really hard (at times) on many of my posts, and I've never made a pretty penny from Loueyville. It's pure, unadulterated passion. And that's something I should be proud of. So I might as well commit my name to it, right? (Can you tell I'm still a little apprehensive about this?)

And God willing and the creek don't rise, I'll soon be writing an article for The Paper, the new Louisville indy, and I'd like to, you know, sign my name to that too.

It just makes sense for me now.  I won't be broadcasting my identity on a regular basis.  And I'm not about to post my blog to my school's website or anything.  I'd rather keep my blog on the DL for the most part.  But, well, this is what it it is...

So, hi Louisvillagers! I'm Melissa Chipman.  But I'll always be Lou, too. This is my blog.  Nice to meet you!

Out of Office: See Y'all in August

So long... farewell...

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you'll know that I'm gearing up to head out of town for a month while I attend a Super Awesome Adult Nerd Literary Camp.

Jinkies, folks. I've spent the whole day mired in some serious pre-trip anxiety.  Worry worry worry, fret fret.  I do this every time I travel, but this one feels especially hard.

I'll be gone for a month or so, and that feels like a really long time. And frankly, I've been having a really great time in Louisville this summer.  I haven't done as much "stuff" as I wanted, but I've been spending time with my awesome family of friends, and I hate pulling the plug on that for a month. I haven't had a group of friends this big since college, and I don't think I've had a group of friends I've liked this much since... ever. Also, I'm embarking on an adventure where I'll be spending 21+ days with 20+ strangers, and I'm not really a people person. (Yes, it may seem that that statement contradicts the one that precedes it. But it takes me a long time to warm up to people.  I've warmed up to my Louisville friend family.)  I just had a conversation about this with Roommate.  He said, "What are you so afraid of?"

Me: "Mean people."

Roommate: "Don't worry. You'll probably be the meanest one there."

Thanks, dude.

Anyway, I'm not sure how well information flows through the internet tubes in Virginia City, NV, where I will be for two weeks. But you can probably expect a slow-down in posting here on Loueyville.com.  Honestly, I don't know what the Verizon service will be like too, so you can probably expect a slowdown on the Tweetybox as well.

More importantly, because I'm not going to be in town til August, I won't have my ear to the ground about upcoming events and goings-on in town.  So if you hear of good stuff you think I should be posting about, please email me stat at lou (at) loueyville.com.  Or just email me to say hi.

In the meantime, follow me on Twitter (@loueyville) to hear about my adventures in Nevada and then in Connecticut (and then all over New England as I visit the New England Lous).  I'll miss you folks.  Have a fabulous July, and try not to have too much fun without me.

Technical Difficulties

Today is just an ugly day tech-wise. My email got hijacked-- I'm so sorry, I truly DON'T believe you need Viagra-- and now I can't get my new domain registry to forward properly.

And I'm swamped at the Meatspace Workplace today.

Just know that I didn't get raptured.  I'm just all bungled up.

thanks for your patience

NTDWL: Feeling Rapturous

Nothing to Do With Louisville... really.

All this talk about the Rapture on May 21...

I ain't buying it.  Hooey, I say.

But in case it isn't, Gentle Readers, thanks for reading my blog. For the first time.  For the past four years.

From what I understand, the fundamental Christians behind this May 21 prediction believe that a very select few, 3% of the world population-- all of whom, I assume, believe in "their" God-- will be whisked away to party with Jesus on Saturday.  And by "party with," I mean party sans alcohol, dancing, sex, drugs, rock and roll, and Obamacare.  The rest of us will live another six months or so, plagued by natural disasters, pestilence, riots, and turmoil.  Otherwise known as... your average week in 2011.

Then we all get sent to hell.

I say "the rest of us" because I don't really know any fundamental Christians or people who believe this rapture stuff.

BUT, if there IS a rapture, I believe those who will be raptured will NOT just be those folks who believe in the fundies' God.  If there is a rapture (and therefore a God), I believe that She/He will rapture only the truly, truly Good people in the world.

So, Grandma Lou and Michelle Jones, I will miss you very much come 6:01pm on May 21.  Love you both and God(seeing we know He/She exists at that point)speed on your voyage.

The rest of you? Hope y'all get good drugs for your pestilence.

Slow and Bouncy... perfect!

Mama has gone and done the unthinkable.

That's right, this Sunday you'll find me at a sporting event playing a sport.

I'll just let that sink in for a moment...

... Well, maybe "sport" should be in quotation marks.  Through positive peer pressure, I've joined a National Kickball Association team.  League play starts this week, and it looks like there's still plenty of time to put a team together (although based on how hard our poor captain has worked to get us organized, named, paid for, and t-shirted, maybe not).  Go visit the fantastic website if you're interested.

I'll keep you posted on this developing story.  And I'll try not to embarrass y'all too much.

Just Checking in...

So, it's bedtime for all good little Lous, but the world (and national) news has me so filled with sadness (and maybe a little fear) that I thought, "Geez, maybe I should find some tidbit of good news and post it on the blog before I go to bed."  I don't know who I thought I'd be helping.  You, reader?  Me?

And then I opened the Blogger dialogue window and just stared... and stared... and thought, "I've got nothing."

That's not true, of course.  There's lots of good going on in Louisville right now.  If we put on our blinders (lightly, gently, just enough to get us through the day but not enough to block it out) and look only in our backyards, there are good things galore.

The forecast for Thursday through Monday hovers around the 70 degree range.  In March.  That's spectacular news.  I had a fabulous weekend.  Saw Les Mis for the first time at the Kentucky Center's Broadway Across America on Friday.  Hit up the Hooley in the Highlands St. Pat's parade on a 66 degree Saturday.  Saw EDITH CAN SHOOT THINGS AND HIT THEM at the Humana Festival on Sunday afternoon, my third Humana play this year and the third Humana play to hit it out of the park (read Erin Keane's review here).

Lady Gaga came to the YUM! Whale and put on a hell of a show, by all accounts, and then proved that she really is the coolest thing since Netflix Video on Demand by showing up at Connections and joining drag queen Vanessa DeMornay onstage (video here).  Both the men's and the women's UofL basketball teams made it into the Big Dance.  Sarah McLaughlin brought scores of fans to crazy weepy tears, if my twitter feed tells the truth.  And heck, someone out there genuinely enjoyed themselves seeing Michael Bolton on Sunday, right?  Right?

It was a good weekend in Louisville.  And I'm not saying that we should only pay attention to what's in our backyard.  Not even close.  The world is big, sad, scary, and a little crazy.  And you should probably cry and get angry and want to throw things.  (But don't throw things because that's not okay; it is okay to want to.)  I keep reading folks on Twitter who despair over the news from Japan and then long to hug their kids.  Well, I don't have kids.  So I'll write a few positive words, be grateful for my students-who-are-our-hope-for-the-future, long for better news tomorrow, and go to bed.  G'night, Louisvillagers.  Sleep peacefully.  Moon off.

In Which I Get to Be "Roommate"...

So it's been a little quiet around these bloggy parts.  Sorry for that.  If you follow me on Twitter (@loueyville), you know that here at Casa Lou we've been dealing with a serious health crisis.  Specifically Roommate's health crisis.  More specifically, the heart attack that he had last Friday/Saturday.

Roommate has started a new blog, Heart Attack Colored Lens, to share information with his friends and family and to generally address what it means to be a 39 year-old heart attack survivor.  Knowing Roommate, when he gets bored with talking about his health, he'll probably start blogging about other stuff-- music, movies, the Louisville scene.  And in his blog, I get to be "Roommate."

I'm biased.  But I think you should plug his blog into your Google Reader.  Oooh.  That sounds nerdy-dirty.

I tell ya, Roommate is doing great-- super good spirits, good energy, chipper on all levels-- but sometimes I feel like I'm still recovering from his heart attack.  I fancy myself something of a "writer" (at least sometimes I do), but I find it hard to put this experience from my perspective into words.  I've lost people who are dear to me-- grandparents mostly.  And I've sat vigil by the hospital beds of those that I've loved.  But last weekend there were moments-- however brief, however marginally warranted-- when I thought Roommate might suddenly wink out of my life.  Forever.  And it was literally (I know we overuse the crap out of that word, but this time it is the perfect word) the worst feeling I've ever had.

I don't think I take Roommate for granted. We do a pretty good job of reminding each other how lucky we are to have each other. But what I DID take for granted is the idea that Roommate would always be here.  Maybe not always my housemate, my partner-in-crime, my favorite travel companion, my sounding board, and sometimes my foil... but always here. Those moments when I thought he could suddenly not be here... perhaps the worst moments of my life.

So, my PSA before I get back on the blogging horse and tell you about fun stuff happening in the 'Ville and other nonsense: In the almighty words of the great philosophers Bill & Ted-- Be Excellent To Each Other.

Party on, Roommate.

End of (My) Summer Wrap-Up

I know the weather says otherwise, but the end of summer is here.  Mama's summer, at least.  Starting today, I'm back at work full time for The Man.  Sure I joked during the spring that my wee-tiny promotion that goes into effect this week means that I'm The Man now, but it was just that, a "joke."  Despite the fact that I love my Meatspace job with a burning passion, I think it's a universal truth that whether it's an average Monday or the first day back at work after two months off, grey clouds hang over the heads of those who are yoked to a job that dictates their freedom, their bedtimes, the number of glasses of wine they can consume on any given night.

Roommate is a freelancer, and I know that those of you who are self-employed have your own host of woes when it comes to your jobs.  But my #1 beef with being a working woman is losing my spontaneity. A few days ago, I was lucky enough to have lunch with a group of fantastic women-- several of whom are Awesome Louisvillagers already.  And it made me powerful sad to know that that would be the last time, until next June likely, that I'd be able to be a Lady Who Lunches.

At the beginning of the summer, I made a "to do" list for the upcoming months, but when I upgraded to a new computer, I didn't bother to transfer the list over to the MacBook.  I know myself well enough to know that no matter how much on that list I accomplished, those un-done "to dos" would haunt me.  So I've been winging it this summer.  For good or for ill.

Here are some thoughts on the Summer of Lou, including some of those done and undone "to dos."

• Monitizing the blog:  I'm not even really sure what the word "monitize" means.  But I know I had on my list something along the lines of:  "look into how you can make some $ through Loueyville.com."  Yeah. Didn't really happen.  I thought about it, truly I did.  But I never really went the distance.  I printed business cards in an effort to "legitimize" myself.  You might be seeing some of those pop up at local cafes sometime soon-- I have 500 of them.  I am occasionally adding Amazon associates links, but I haven't seen a penny from that.  Or the Google ads. Sure, I'd love some kind of sugardaddy/mummy, especially when webhosting renewal time comes around, and I have to shell out a couple hundred from my own pocket.  But in the end, I don't really relish the idea of putting my hand out.  And this summer, especially, Loueyville did something almost as good as put change in my pocket: it "paid for" dozens of adventures and evenings out in the form of media passes, free tickets, and being put "on the list."
  
  
• And thanks to in part to Loueyville and in part to Louisville, I pretty much had the most fun summer I can remember.  Rocket-ass heat and all.  Charlie Mars, HullabaLOU, Jersey Boys, Legally Blonde.  Free stuff like Waterfront Wednesdays and 4th Street Live's Blues Travelers show.  Discovering music at Zanzabar.  Loads of movies at Baxter.  Late nights at the Back Door.  Cool(ish) evenings outdoors at O'Shea's or Flanagan's.  TONS of Bats games.  (go Bats!)  It's just been fun.  Fun, fun, fun.  Often at the expense, ahem, of the "grown up stuff."  The lawn and "garden."  The housekeeping.  The planning for the upcoming Meatplace job year.  The major household DIY projects that were on my buried "to do" list.  So this is my mea culpa to myself:  Lou, you're gonna hate yourself in a week, when you have a long year of hard work ahead of you, and you spent your entire summer having fun.  All play and no work makes Lou a bit of a mess. Live with it, sister.
  
• If I can finish revising my "serious" writing project by the end of the weekend-- only 75 more pages to go!-- I will have reached my goal of having an agent-ready manuscript by the end of the summer.  This goal didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped in some ways, but in other ways, it was very affirming to see how close I've been to being ready all this time. Long-time readers may remember that I used to be a voracious writer, and then chemo punked my noggin and made it impossible for me to concentrate for any length of time.  It was very nice to mark my return to (fiction) writing this summer, first by attending WRW in the early summer and then by ending my summer working on the manuscript in Cuernavaca, Mexico.
  
• Good travels this summer, speaking of Cuernavaca.  WRW took me to lovely Owensboro, KY for ten days.  Family and friends visits took me to New England for two-plus weeks.  Got to see the town where I was born and the town where I spent the first 8 months of my life in Hanover and Lebanon, NH respectively.  Got to visit with my college roommate and her lovely children in Stowe, VT.  A few days on the Vineyard with my aunt and uncle and mom.  A visit with Grandma Lou, the coolest, most beautiful 87-year old you'll ever meet (if you're lucky) outside of Boston.  A visit with Big Mama Lou in the hometown.  

Today at the Meatspace Workplace, they had one of those nasty "ice breaker" activities.  And my "neighbor" was supposed to interview me on the following topic:  "Of what are you most proud?"  Nice.  I don't have the go-to answers: kids or a family.  I'm not particularly proud of most of my personal relationships-- although it does make me insanely happy that I enjoy Roommate's company as much now as I did when we first met eight years ago, despite the fact that we're exes.  There's no massive achievement in my life that I can point to.  The fact that I survived my cancer gets chalked up to my doctors, nurses, and modern science.  The fact that I've survived other difficult times gets chalked up to the support of the people around me and Jim Beam.  

This was my answer:  I'm most proud of the fact that I've been doing the same job for eleven years, and I still wake up most mornings happy to go to work.  I'm most proud of the fact that despite a lot of pressure to not be a teacher, both personal and financial, I still am.  I still love the kids.  I still love what I do.  I still strive to be better every year.  I still believe that what I do is important.  And even though I'm not ready to go back to the Meatspace Workplace, I'm excited for the new year.  

Happy end of summer, y'all.  Hope it was a good one for you too.  And I hope you all can say the same about what you do to bring home the bacon.  We should all be so lucky.