life – Page 11 – Britt Skrabanek

Winter, you can kiss my pasty ass!

No, that’s not my bike – frozen, buried, forgotten.

My bike is named Silvie.

Silvie is currently nestled in the teeny hall of my apartment, buried beneath itchy coats, scarves and mittens, and tragically forgotten through the winter that won’t quit.

I’m sure some of you, especially my dad, are snickering right now. I’m the girl that never had seasons growing up and loves snow, right?

I no longer love snow…I loathe it.

I want vivacious colors to make my eyes sore, I want pungent grass to make my nose itch, I want zealous sunshine to make my skin drunk, no…intoxicated.

I don’t want white, I want green. I don’t want decay, I want bloom. I don’t want chapped, I want sweaty.

Winter, you can kiss my pasty ass!

So, anyways. This is Silvie and I when we were happy…

It was summer in the fine city of Milwaukee, the year I first moved here. Without batting an eye, I gleefully traded in my clunky car Booger for sleek and sexy Silvie.

That’s the Milwaukee Art Museum, gorgeously designed by the great Santiago Calatrava, cascading behind me.

Of course, strangled by Winter’s crone hands, the museum looks quite different now…

So, back to the frozen, buried, forgotten bike I mentioned before I went off on my cabin fever tangent.

This bike is stationed right outside my apartment. And strangely, it’s been sitting there since last summer.

I know this, because I like to park my bike there when I’m on the run. Unfortunately, my prime parking was always commandeered by this asshole bike with the lame basket.

Well, well, well…look at the asshole now. Actually, I feel kind of bad for the asshole.

Not only is he on his way to becoming a snowball, a career he certainly never intended to have, he has turned into a tourist attraction.

Now that he is one with the snow, people stop and take pictures of him every day, spotlighting his public abandonment and emasculating him even more than that frou-frou basket.

Although Silvie has been neglected for months, she knows I still love her, that I yearn to frolic with her on the city streets, narrowly escaping death through the treachery of downtown commuting.

She knows.

So, my question for all of you is…what the hell happened to the owner of that bike?! I’ve been mulling over many theories lately, but I’m interested in what you have to say.

Humor me…I’m bored as shit.

(Please pardon my unladylike language throughout this post. The Winter Blues have spoken.)

Social media (and that whole love/hate thing)

I love it. I hate it. I love it. I hate it. I…you get the gist.

Well, it looks like social media is here to say, guys. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say…embrace it already!

I totally get the the love/hate thing. I’ve gone through it myself.

It’s a common subject.; in fact as I was writing this post, I came across a great blog post by Jenny Hansen discussing Facebook called What do your Facebook Interactions REALLY say about you? Be sure to check out the Social Me analysis fun when you stop by.

OK, so back to the love/hate thing!

When My Space was “it”, I quit and rejoined several times. Each time I left because I wanted intimate relationships, so if people couldn’t see me in person or at the very least call me on the ancient-adjacent telephone…well, tough cookies!

When I moved away from my fam in Dallas, I joined Facebook. Somewhere in there I quit due to my previously mentioned stance over the lack of modern day intimacy.

And, guess what? I got lonely as hell.

If I didn’t get the memo before that the hey day of the casual phone catch-up was over, I got it this time.

Gee whiz, even email, our techy equivalent to a handwritten letter, has lost its glory in the world of personal relationships.

So, I decided to rejoin Facebook for the sake of companionship. I realized this is just how things are. As such, I decided to stop swimming upstream and simply float along the lazy social media river.

Before anyone gets huffy or accuses me of drinking the Kool-Aid, please know that I am still a diehard advocate for in-person or telephone get-togethers. The exquisite comfort of the human voice is unparalleled no matter how far the internet takes us.

I like to think of social media as an enhancement of communication, rather than the bitter end.

As a lesser known author trying to get my name out there, it is an amazing tool – and hey, it’s free and pretty darn fun.

Don’t worry, I’m not one of those annoying writers polluting your social feed with book pimping updates. All I have to say about that is…YUCK! I think we can all agree that people selling anything aggressively is such a turn-off.

However, I do believe in making new connections through social media and hanging out, having some laughs and sharing bits and pieces of life together. Undeniably, it’s a strong community out there, and I think in many ways it’s a healthy development.

Do people share annoying tidbits from time to time? Yes. And my advice for you is to either hide their updates or just scan right along past them. My advice for them…the complaining, the whining, and the too much info are no-no’s.

Nobody ordered a Debbie Downer with a splash of neuroses.

Like anything, moderation is key.

There is no need to be a part of every social media site in existence. I stick with Facebook and Twitter. Oh, how I love Twitter! It makes me feel super clever when I nail a point in 140 characters or less.

(Pardon my social media nerd outburst there.)

Still not with me? Here are two of my favorite social media memories which changed my outlook…BIG TIME!

Twitter Talk

A blogger gal pal of mine, Jessica Korteman of Notes of Nomads, and I had this incredible convo on Twitter. She lives and Japan and had just started reading my book, Everything’s Not Bigger. So, we were chatting on Twitter about my little book. It was morning here and I was sipping my cup of joe. It was nighttime there, and she was drinking a cup of milo. To speak with someone I have never met, to share a warm beverage with someone on the opposite side of the world…you guys, that’s pretty damn cool.

P.S. Be sure to check her blog out! I always joke that she is the female version of Indiana Jones in my mind, and she’s probably going to end up as a character in one of my books.

Facebook Reunion

I lost contact with my childhood best friend, Laura. We went through everything together growing up – playing Barbies and “house”, our first boy crushes, and major obsessions with Tori Amos and Aerosmith. She moved out of state, then I moved out of state; she moved again, then I moved again. We tried tracking each other down many times and had no luck.

Quite awesomely, we reunited on Facebook. Logically speaking, we probably would have never found each other without silly old Facebook.

If you take a good look at your own social media memories, you may notice some undeniable moments you would not have experienced otherwise. Think about it for a sec…

Virtually, you’ve gone to many weddings, you’ve seen lots of newborn babies, you’ve supported someone when they were going through a rough time with a comment – a little ray of hope.

Perhaps it’s not the type of humanity we ever thought could exist, and that is why it confuses and scares us sometimes. But, it’s there for us if we want it.

Seriously?! How are we NOT friends already? Click the links below, so we can fix that!

Let’s share a laugh (and maybe a snort or two) on Facebook!

Let’s Tweet our little hearts out together!

ALSO, ONLY ONE WEEK LEFT FOR YOU TO…

Vote for two of my characters’ names (it’s fun!)

AND…

Score $1 off on both of my books on Smashwords!

So, what do you guys think about social media? Do you love it, hate it, or love/hate it?

Beggars and Champagne

Once upon a time, there was a magical land far, far away named Milwaukee. It was a land filled with beggars and champagne…

…at least in my eyes, the starry eyes of a non-native.

Before I moved here I led a previous life in Dallas, and a previous-previous life in SoCal. At a young age, Wayne’s World taught me that Milwaukee was Algonquin for “The Good Land”.

Hey, I thought it must be an alright place if Alice Cooper and the Native Americans said so.

Other than that, people told me it was a land of cheese and beer. Seriously, this is all I once knew.

When I first met my Milwaukeean paramour in Dallas, we interrogated each other – as we all do during the dating phase – and naturally we confessed our first dreadful jobs.

Quite casually, he said, “I used to be a beggar.”

Red flag!

“A beggar?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and trying my darnedest to stay open-minded, because man oh man was I smitten!

“You know…at the grocery store.”

Light bulb.

“Oh, a BAGger! You bagged groceries.”

Phew!

“That’s what I said.”

No you didn’t.

It turns out the letter “a” is pronounced a little differently in the Midwest.

We had a good laugh over that…obviously. And, me and my far-from-bumming beau got hitched and moved to Milwaukee, the good land.

*Read the rest of the story over at OnMilwaukee.com (I was invited to write a “Readers Blog” at On Milwaukee, so it would be awesome if you guys could stop by their place…I promise there are more laughs with this kooky tale.)

I Found Some Change

We lose change all the time: between the car seat and the console, next to a tattered gum wrapper; underneath the worn couch cushion, next to a congregation of pet hair and crumbs; upon the cracked sidewalk, next to a discarded cigarette stained with lipstick.

It’s an elusive being, almost obsolete in this age of plastic money. Yet, it’s still poignant enough for us to need it in our high tech, modern lives.

But we trudge on, forgetting that we ever lost it, and settle into this billing cycle. The days turn into nights, the nights turn into days – time passes like currency, switching from hand to hand, traveling far and wide.

You know something needs to give, but your mind clings onto every last cent of stubborn greed. Even though you would think this mind would be wealthy, rich even, alas it is penniless – it is broke.

In a way I was like the change, rolling and rolling until I hit a wall and was forced to stop.

A month ago, at the beginning of 2013 to be exact, my life became unexpectedly different.

Officially, I am no longer a dance teacher, and no longer a dancer. Gone are my days of barres, mirrors, leotards, and constant perfectionism. Truth be told, I never had the enviable turn out, the prized high arches, or the skin and bones physique.

Without going into a lengthy conversation, let’s just say my direction was intercepted by change. I’ve been a dancer for 23 years, a dance instructor for 10 of those.

And, call it the end of an era if you want, but maybe it’s more simple than that…I found some change.

Being a dancer often comes with a strange responsibility, where others view you as that – and only that. Perhaps it is the beauty of movement which makes people respond this way, but there was always this image associated with me and I often felt stuck in it.

A few years ago, Yoga nestled into my life quite purposefully, and brought so much healthy wealth to my life that I even decided to pursue my teaching certification this year.

After all, teaching is my heart.

Yoga teaches us to accept who we are just as we are, rather than forcing us to be something we’re not…to move exactly like someone else– and in the dancing world of costumes, hair, and make-up – to even look exactly like someone else.

If you’re not skinny enough, get skinnier. If your leg doesn’t go that high, get it higher.

And, it is that nourishment of the uniqueness I craved so deeply which finally settled what I owed myself. It slowly moved me away from the way I had always moved, as a dancer.

Truthfully my catchy little tagline – writer. dancer. life enthusiast – has been staring me in the face for several months now, perhaps since its inception. Now that I am moving on from that lifelong part of me, it doesn’t make sense to identify myself in the same way.

Writer. Yes, I am that.

Dancer. Yes, I once was that.

Life enthusiast. Yes, I will always be that.

I don’t know if I found change or if it found me. Either way I am truly humbled by this profound pirouette in my life.

I stand here with my pockets turned inside out – empty, but open and full of grace – and ready to be filled with change.

I’ll start with this…writer. yogi. life enthusiast.

The buck stops here.

Grinnin’ Through the Grind: Keep it Classy

Hey, I’m back with this mini series…Grinnin’ Through the Grind (If you missed the first segment: Keep it Healthy)

Onwards to Part Deux!

We all work our tushes off most of our lives. Whether we’re working our dream job or our day job, we are connected by a daily duty which often includes…DUN DUN DUN…office drama.

Keeping it classy at work would seem like a no-brainer, something we all do naturally, right?

Wrong.

Maybe it’s mob mentality – I’m not entirely sure – but the workplace can be a downright cesspool of negativity.

A snide remark here, a roll of the eyes there…hey look, it’s high school all over again! I think we can all agree that once was traumatic aplenty.

I’ve worked a lot of different jobs and snarkiness, although never fully disclosed in the employee handbook, seems to be a consistent occupational hazard.

So, it’s there – every day, every dusty corner of your drab office. We have to put on our big boy and girl pants, and deal.

It doesn’t mean we have to sacrifice ourselves, joining into the venomous banter just because everyone else is doing it. If so-and-so jumped off the ninth floor, would you join them? You catch my drift.

Here are a few ways to keep it classy around the office…

If you don’t have anything nice to say…zip the lip. Let’s be honest, we’ve all gossiped at one point or another. It takes work to stay out of that mindless trap. Think about a time you said something uncool about someone. Bet you didn’t feel too cool afterwards, did you?

Classy Solution: If you don’t get along with another person for this or that, try a ridiculously positive approach. Give them a little smile and kill them with kindness. You’ll be pleasantly surprised when your crap relationship experiences a chummy revelation, and you won’t be so eager to talk smack when the tension is nonexistent.

If they don’t have anything nice to say…shut it down. News flash, back stabbers! Lowering your voices or even whispering does not disguise your poisonous convo. And, cubicles are not made of soundproof steel.

Classy Solution: Throw on some headphones to block out the nasty. If you want to put an end to the crap talk, you don’t have to blatantly call them out on it like a narc. Just interrupt them with a work question and get everybody back on task.

If you’re frustrated about something…mind the noises. OK, this is a sneaky one that a lot of us do without realizing. The insanely loud, exaggerated sigh which screams “Why me?” or “This sucks!” is bad energy which should be channeled elsewhere.

Classy Solution: Close your eyes and turn your attention inward, practicing deep breathing while you slowly count to ten. If you still feel iffy, keep on counting. Or take a different type of breather, and go for a little stroll.

A definitive result of spreading negativity is the prominence of self-induced misery. Soon enough you won’t be grinnin’ through the grind, you’ll be grunting through it.

How do YOU keep it classy on the job?

*Next week will be the final part in this series. Grinnin’ Through the Grind: Keep it Movin‘ will be a special vlog from yours truly. Stay tuned…