Monthly Archives: June 2012

Magazine Update

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So I took myself to lunch the other day and forced myself to draw up a marketing plan.

I should be able to do this in my sleep—I’m a marketing director for Pete’s sake. (p.s. does anyone know who Pete is and why humanity is worried about his sake?) But creating a marketing plan for your own product is dang near impossible. (It’s not, of course, but it feels like it.)

Why is is so much easier to figure out how to market someone else’s stuff rather than the stuff you personally care about and want people talking about more than any other?

Anyway, the marketing plan is coming along.

We also have a name (Hip! Hip!): Be Magazine. I love it! And it’s so perfect for what this magazine is all about—for girls who are becoming.

I also have the URL, am working on the website, am gathering content for my first editorial year (gah! That is so crazy to type!), have narrowed it down to four logos, and created the Facebook page.

Speaking of … will you take a quick minute and go “Like” our page? I mean, only if you want to. You can also vote for your favorite of the four logos.

And of course, I hope you’ll share the page with all the teenage girls, parents of teenage girls, teachers of teenage girls, etc. that you know.

It’s getting real, y’all. It’s getting real.

She Did It [The Epilogue]

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Epilogue

I realize that using a race as a metaphor for life is quite overdone. However, it seems there are few other situations that truly reflect the life experience more than a race. And in the days since my sister’s relay, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about a couple of things.

As I wrote yesterday, the entire time she was out running her legs of the race, I was praying for her—praying that she would have the strength, stamina, and will-power to finish, and finish well.

The fact of the matter, if you couldn’t tell, is that I love my sister, and I love her a lot. But I am human and I am certain that my understanding of, and capacity to love is limited (although I’m also certain it grows with age and experience). And if I were to put my love up against God’s love there would be no comparison. His love is so much bigger, so much deeper, so much more …

That being said—if I love my sister as much as I do, and as a result found myself praying non-stop for her success because of that love, then doesn’t it seem reasonable to assume that God, who loves us more and loves us better, is also praying for us? That He is cheering us on and hoping for our successful finish just as much, if not more than, we wish for each other?

I am certain. We are not alone in this mountainous climb of life. And not only does He have His watchful eye over us, but I think He is cheering and clapping and hollering our names, shouting from His world beyond the clouds that we can do this, that we are amazing, that He is proud of us—willing us with His almighty power as we climb, sprint, or crawl up and down every hill and valley, His heart pounding, arms reaching, eyes focused—until we each arrive safely at the finish line.

That just has to be true.

She Did It

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When she said she was going to do it, I’ll admit—I was nervous. I mean, I know she’s 25 and married and a big girl. But she’s still my baby sister. And the thought of her running in the middle of the night, by herself, through the mountains of Utah, had me a little nervous. All I had were visions of mountain lions and/or scary men hiding in bushes.

So when her Ragnar relay team said they needed someone to drive the vehicle support van, I didn’t think twice. I jumped.

Not that there was anything I could do to keep a mountain lion from attacking, of course. But it was the best available option for this over-protective big sister. At least I could be there at her relay exchange points to cheer her on and make sure she arrived when and where she was supposed to.

Little did I know how I could somehow grow to love her even more as I watched her run up and down mountains.

As she began each of her three legs, I wished her luck and tried to remind her that she could do it. And then I prayed every minute she was gone (literally) that she would have the strength, mentally and physically to finish.

When she started her last leg–a seven mile stretch over steep hills and knee jarring declines–I could see she was spent. She had already run 13 miles over the course of twenty hours with little to no sleep, and there was no vehicle support allowed on the route to make sure she had enough water, stayed cool, or kept going. I had the hardest time driving away. I waved out the window until she was no longer a spec in my rear-view mirror.

Once out of sight, I drove quickly to her finish line and waited. But when it seemed like it was taking her longer than it should, I got a little worried. Was she alright? Was she injured? Had she given up?

But there was nothing I could do. So I just stood. Facing the mountain. My eyes fixed on the bend in the trail where she should eventually appear.

People milled around me. Her team mates tried to find shade and rested in the van. But I stayed, feet planted as the sun burned hot, praying to the God of the mountain in front of me that she would make it.

When she turned the corner and into my view, I breathed for the first time in an hour. Then I straightway went to the finish line and began to scream. She needed to hear me yelling. I needed her to hear me yelling. Yelling her name. Telling her she could do it. That she could finish.

I will never forget her face as she crossed the finish line. And I will never forget the weight of her limp, victorious body in my arms as I held her and told her again and again how amazing she was and how proud I was of her.

My baby sister? She is a champion.

5 Things on My Mind

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Five things I’ve been thinking about:

1) So remember the post I wrote about trying to find the day where the battle between a woman and her body begins? And remember the really nice “date” I had a few weekends ago? Well, that friend recently updated his Facebook status with the following:

FB Fam: Thinking of my female friends and family members, I commend to you all the thought below in this age of marketers using envy, false comparison, and measuring up (or not) to SELL products…along with the lie that you are never good enough the way you are. I like this instead:

“A WOMAN IS OFTEN MEASURED by the things she cannot control. She is measured by the way her body curves or doesn’t… curve, by where she is flat or straight or round. She is measured by 36-24-36 and inches and ages and numbers, by all the outside things that don’t ever add up to who she is on the inside. And so if a woman is to be measured, let her be measured by the things she can control, by who she is and who she is trying to become. Because as every woman knows, measurements are only statistics. And STATISTICS LIE.” – Nike Print Ad, 1994

Now, I’m 99% sure his Facebook status had nothing to do with my blog post. In fact, I’m 99.9% sure he doesn’t read my blog. But I really appreciated the timing. And the sentiment.

Also, in the comments below his status/quote, another (single male) friend of ours posted the following response:

Reminds me of a similar quote from Jeffrey R. Holland: “I suppose no one is as handsome or as beautiful as he or she wishes, or as brilliant in school or as witty in speech or as wealthy as we would like, but in a world of varied talents and fortunes that we can’t always command, I think that makes even more attractive the qualities we can command–such qualities as thoughtfulness, patience, a kind word, and true delight in the accomplishment of another. These cost us nothing, and they can mean everything to the one who receives them.”

These two guys. They’re good. Like really good. And they’re the kind of men I need to be associating with. (Particularly since I recently needed a date for another work thing and, rather dishearteningly, figured out that I know a total of five single eligible men.) And these two? They restore a portion of my broken faith in the possibility of what’s actually out there and available.

2) I’m really grateful for this space and for the opportunity to write and for the people I connect with (albeit roundabout-ly) because of it.

There are, of course, my personal friends, who read and comment and email or call, and who I feel so blessed to know and have in my life. Truly, friends.

And then, in the span of a couple of weeks, I received two emails from two strangers (Hi Mady! Hi Annie!), that totally made my day, and reminded me that what I write does matter to a few people out there. That it’s not just for me. And I’m grateful for that chance. So thank you for reading.

3) This commercial makes me angry. Like, really angry. Every time it comes on, I get up and find myself stomping around, slamming cupboards and grumbling about Mad Men. And I realize I’m not the target market for this ad, but it makes me so mad that we’re still using women’s bodies to sell products. And because of that I will never buy a Kia. Ever.

But this commercial? This commercial makes me cry. Every time. I obviously don’t know these people, but I’m so happy for them and am so proud of what they created.

4. I can’t get enough of Instagram. It’s like a magical wonderland where the best parts of Facebook and the best parts of Twitter live in harmony without all the things you hate about those two social media platforms. I’m at @kristaqm. Let me know if you’re there too. It’s crazy awesome.

5. I’m fairly certain I suck at flirting. And I hate small talk. This is proving problematic. I’m finding.