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My Accidental, Albeit, Metaphorical Holiday Boner Promotion

My Accidental, Albeit, Metaphorical Holiday Boner Promotion

Attention to detail is…

A pinnacle of resume sainthood and adult behavior.

The magic words to get the job done.

The wet dream* of grammar hammers everywhere.

The reason for the delete key.

People love that phrase, don’t they? Everything about it screams RESPONSIBILITY and MATURITY.

Like everyone else in my known universe, I’ve written this attribute of attention-paying on countless resumes. And have done so with the confidence that I actually possessed such a thing.

As if it were granted with my diploma on the day I graduated high school!

But, unless “attention to detail” means waking up in the middle of the night remembering that table seven asked for Tabasco and I never brought it.…. then, no. Mostly, I’ve been winging it for years.

(Any of you former servers with me on the freaky table-waiting nightmares?)

Even though every personality/astrology tests (Sagittarius/INTP) all note my loathe for details and love for ideas, abstractions, art, and ingenuity  — I clung to being “detail-oriented” as a marker for my worldly utility. Because I was supposed to. Any evidence that I lacked this thing made me worried, shameful — about my abilities, my worthiness, and the health of my brain.

Yesterday I finally got tired of worrying about that. Like totally over it.

I mean, it started a while ago, but yesterday was really the tipping point.

Here’s what happened.

I spent many hours, days, and weeks writing lovely copy and curriculum for my new group, Surviving the Holidays with Gravy and Grace: For Introverts, Martyrs + Nerds. I tortured myself over every word, because I love saying what I mean, and I wanted it to resonate with you. I was really excited to put it out there. It was in my bones, it was my baby, etcetera.

But by the time I got to publicizing it, my brain had apparently given all of the attention to detail that it had to spare when I wrote a few tweets and spent the day kind of mindlessly retweeting them while fielding emails.

By the end of the day, I noticed that, in a well-intentioned effort to relay the information that this is an inclusive group of witnessing and support, I had used the phrase, “We get you so hard.”

Screen Shot 2014-11-04 at 11.47.21 AM

Yeah.

Instead of saying “you’re not alone”, it sounded like I was offering to give my entire Twitter feed of four-thousand-something people a Happy Endings kind of Happy Holiday.

Aw yeah.

So, now, not only am I abysmal at paying attention to detail. I am apparently a personified Freudian slip.

Ideas? Abstractions? Art or Ingenuity anyone? I can make you a pie?

Sigh.

At first I was mortified.

And then, the “under promise and over deliver” jokes started to well up uncontrollably.

I hurried to my business support Facebook group to get sound advice and the thread exploded into some world class comedy. One of my people reminded me of the time someone asked me if my last name (Worden) was spelled W-H-O-R…

Someone else suggested, I change my name to Wooden.

And because I pal around with smarties, the general consensus was that metaphorical boners about health, levity, and permission to adore your imperfect self are actually the best and that, We Get You So Hard,  should be my new tagline.

It’s not going to be. But holy bananas that would be funny.

This complete lack of attention to detail ended up being the catalyst for a hell of a lot of humor. It was also an opportunity to recall some humility and human-ness, which, when we do, makes us larger than the sum of our parts. Taking our life practices seriously and our weirdo selves lightly is always a tall, but necessary, order.

We are never, ever, ever, ever going to be all of the things. Using any one thing to define what it means to be enough is never going to work.

What do they say about judging a fish by its ability to climb a tree?

I’ll let you look that one up. I don’t really care for details. Ahem.

But I do care about peace, acceptance, harmony, integrity, friendship, belly laughing, and love. I care about those things a lot. And I know that in order to have any of that goodness in our lives, we can’t waste a bunch of time belaboring our weak bits. We are far better served by amplifying and uplifting our strengths. And each other’s.

SO, I’m hereby committing to a future that always looks like finding hilarity and subtext in my inadvertently innuendo-based marketing, rather than shame.

Can I get an amen?

I am also, as always, wholly committed to supporting you in this way. Together, we can repair the energy leaks and get the work done that really needs doing – the families, the friendships, and the fulfillments.

Which brings us to a perfect segue to remind you about the very cool group that started this whole blog post adventure/debacle.

Seriously, you guys, the pursuit of perfection will never bring you peace. But clarity, attention and the love of people who “get you so hard” will.

Also, perhaps my subconscious was also trying to make a bigger point. OUR LIVES SHOULD TOTALLY TURN US ON.

I’d love to have you on board. Here is the link to learn more and sign up.

Or just send me an email and say, hi. I absolutely love hearing from you.

xx,

Meg Signature

 

 

 

 

*Didn’t even notice this one till edits and then just left it there because illustration at its finest for the win.
marble image credit unknown. if it’s yours and you want it removed, please contact immediately

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2 Responses to My Accidental, Albeit, Metaphorical Holiday Boner Promotion

  1. Jen says:

    I never even noticed the accidental boner, I was busy listening to what you were saying. Does that mean that I’ve have a lot of experience in ignoring awkward body parts? Probably. And yeah, random retail/ food service nightmares at 2am.

  2. Heidi says:

    Love this! And had an example of this kind myself this very week. After all the posters and invitation cards for the National Water Center’s Aqua Terra Gratitude Festival had been printed and distributed, we started getting questions. People wanted to know what “Gratitute” was. Really! After all the attention to detail I had mispelled Gratitude and even my proof readers missed it.

    We’ve decided to be clever. We’re telling people this: Gratitute comes from Grati as in gratis or gratitude plus tute as in tutee (one who is being tutored. It refers to being tutored in gratitude.

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