Where the grass is more green-yellow than yellow-green

Let us talk expectations. Just yesterday I updated my Facebook status to the following, “In today’s Facebook review: 5 babies, 4 new houses, 3 engagements, 2 brag about it days and a partridge in a pear tree. I’m just sitting here enjoying that I got a good shower in.”

I hate to be one to complain. In fact, as much as I hate the people who inundate me with their happiness of Facebook, I equally dislike those who are constant party poopers. However, my estimate of 5 babies and 2 days to brag about were extremely under-exaggerated because this Sunday my feed was not 5 babies, it was more like 12. And the brag-about days was more like 15. This Sunday, I returned home from a weekend of walking my dad around the brick neighborhood in after-storm-Florida-humidity-and-heat to a barage of happiness crammed down my already vulnerable throat. (I challenge each of you to take a wheelchair — the one with small wheels that have to be pushed and can’t be self propelled — and push a loved one 1.5 miles on brick. This should be a fucking Olympic sport, and I have new found respect for every person with a loved one who is perma-chair. I nearly knocked my dad flat on his face twice hitting a bump. I’m not proud.) And so, I had to re-ground myself as I seem to need to do often this year. Remind myself that things are manageable. As bad as everything has gotten for me in the last 10 months I have yet to fall on my ass due to the best two parents ever (I hate when people say that but for me it is in fact true and I have non-family members to back that shit up) and a job that is what dreams are made of. Seriously, I couldn’t ask for a more supportive place to pour my creative soul into.

But it all put me back into reminder position that Facebook is the ultimate ‘look how green-ish my grass looks! No. Don’t look over there at that small rotten circle. LOOK HERE! All lush and perfect and growing things. Ignore the invasive dandelion…” I had to remind myself because it has reached a very clear point where my feed is 65% recycled original Reddit content now placed on buzzfeed and 35% everyone telling me about their fantastic job/baby/marriage/engagementring/cute baby/walking baby/crawling baby/2 month baby/4 month baby/house/rented house to buy/building a house with my enormous wealth at only 29. Let’s just say, I had no expectations my entire life about being wealthy. I didn’t know what the future would look like. In fact, I once was out to be an actress so we know how bad this could have looked (all 100 square feet in NYC for 1K a month). But, as I reach 29.5 I am acutely aware of how not complete my life looks, so I take a long stare at my more yellow-green grass and peer over at the more green-yellow with wonder.

I then found this somewhat appropriate to an experience I had today at work. I can’t go into detail and I won’t for many reasons. But, it made me think about clients in my industry of advertising. In particular my industry of ‘small scale’ advertising. And when I say that I mean I don’t work with the Kraft and Pepsi of the world. I do work with incredible clients. Ones that are major players in their states, or cities. And I find so much honor in doing that work over doing it for the big companies. Wrigley gum doesn’t need my help. But in thinking about my own grass situation I recognized something in my clients that has once again come about. I’ve not had a client yet that doesn’t have in their mind the competitor with the green-yellow grass. They are out there there, just staring my client in the face with their John Deer lawn mower, waving their junk at them, saying ‘lookie at me, how awesome I am.’ And my client looks at their yellow-green grass and says ‘I want that, I want what they have.’ But when we invent the Jane Deer 3000 and say ‘you show them this honey!’ … well flip-flopped feet and an invisible fence is just the beginning.

I think what I am coming about from a personal level is that fear is the factor. In a business fear can reside in a few and bleed to the others. But in my life, fear is just me. And pretty much the fear is to accept the green-yellow grass I’ve been handed. Because it isn’t yellow-green at all. That’s just what it looks like up close.

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