The Creative Nest

There is something very glamorous sounding about working with people in different time zones. It makes you feel important. International. Connected. Like you're some kind of corporate citizen of the world. Until you actually have to do it. Then it becomes a giant game of, “What time is it where you are, and more importantly, what time is it supposed to be where I am?” Working across time zones sounds easy enough when you think about it. You look at a clock, figure out the difference and move on with your day. At least that's what I used to think. Then you start having meetings with people who are an hour ahead, two hours behind, or several hours away, and suddenly you are doing time-zone math before you've even had coffee. I have discovered that my brain does not appreciate time-zone math before coffee. Or after coffee, for that matter. The real problem is that your calendar may understand time zones perfectly well, but your body does not. Your calendar says, “Meeting at 8:...

Hi. My name is Mychelle, and I’m a purse collector. Again. Yes, I know. We’ve had this meeting before. For those of you who are new here, welcome. For those of you who have been here before, thank you for coming back. Clearly, none of us learned anything the first time. I would like to begin by saying that I am not proud of this. I am also not particularly ashamed. Mostly, I am impressed with myself. You see, I had been doing really well. I had reached a point where I could walk past a purse without immediately imagining it hanging from my shoulder. I could browse a website without thinking, “Well, technically I don’t have one in that color.” I was healing. Then I saw one. And that was all it took. It wasn't even an especially dramatic encounter. There was no slow-motion music. No spotlight from heaven. No mysterious voice whispering, “Mychelle… you need this.” I simply looked at it and thought, “Oh, that's cute.” Famous last words. Because “that's cute” quickly became “I s...

There is a special kind of frustration that comes from someone handing you an “opportunity” you never asked for. They are excited. They are enthusiastic. They may even tell you how perfect you are for it. Meanwhile, you are standing there thinking, “That is very sweet, but I would rather be chased through a cornfield by an angry goose.” The problem with a crappy opportunity is that it rarely arrives looking crappy. Oh no. It usually comes wrapped in words like “growth,” “experience,” “exposure,” or “a chance to get involved.” Those words sound lovely until you realize they translate to, “Congratulations! You now have an additional responsibility that nobody asked you whether you wanted.” Naturally, the first instinct is to try to get out of it politely. You explain that you have other commitments. You mention that your schedule is already full. You carefully construct a reasonable explanation that makes it clear you are not available without actually screaming, “PLEASE REMOVE MY NAME F...