Selfie-ish

September 1, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

We used to call them selfers in my family. They were the photos that you took when no one was around to help you out and take one for you. We have selfers of being in Hawaii, at the Grand Canyon—places that you went and wanted to have a photo to remember that you were there.

And because back in the dark ages before digital we used to send our film out to get developed, we would have to wait (?!) to see how well we framed the shot. Often heads would be cut off or the shot would pretty much be one looking up everyone’s nostrils. It definitely was not a precise science but a fun gamble to see what you ended up with.

Being silly in Hawaii with our groovy underwater camera

We’ve gone from having to drive up to a Fotomat (remember those? They were those little house-like kiosks that you’d drop off and pick up your film from?) and wait days to view our photos, to having it immediately available to see. I remember when I used to have to pay attention to how many shots I had left on my roll—now I can click till my heart’s content.

As I looked back through my photo albums (also a pre-digital reality for me…) to see what selfers I might have to share for this post, it was interesting to see the evolution. When I went to Europe after I graduated college, there is not a single photo of my friend that I traveled with and me together. Zero. There are a few pics of us alone—at the railing of the Eiffel Tower, on the Piazza San Marco in Venice—but not a single one of us together. As I looked in albums of later years, I found an occasional selfer typically taken on a vacation.

northwoods — Too bad the kid wasn’t cooperating. At least the dog was.

Hard to imagine in this age of the selfie, isn’t it?

Yes, as we are all well aware, the word evolved into selfie, and when most people—thanks to their cell phones—carried a camera everywhere with them, the prevalence and reasons to take a selfie evolved, too. And then phones started to have front-facing cameras for you to see the framing as you took the pic! Look out, world! The phenomenon blew up.

Coinciding with this easy ability to snap selfies was the evolution of social media. With a couple touches of the screen, you can share a pic in any number of places instantaneously. For many, Facebook is their modern day photo album—a place to house all sorts of photos—including selfies.

Yep, I shared this on Facebook while I was freezing my hm-hms off at an ND game.

There’s a lot of freedom granted us in the digital world. And with this freedom comes the opportunity to make some, shall we say interesting choices.

We are definitely a culture of instant gratification, but there’s also a shift in mindset, too. Now we have congressmen and NFL stars taking pics of their peeps to send to whomever. We have kids in middle school doing the same. In fact, we have apps like Snapchat where a person can send a photo and have it “disappear” after viewing (unless the recipient takes a screenshot).

I guess that speaks to the quantity and quality of what is actually being sent. If you want a photo to disappear (even though it risks getting captured and saved), then…what is it that you are sending?

I remember when my college roommate took a surprise photo of me in the shower. Let’s just say I was less than thrilled. I made her give me the photo and the negative when she got them developed, but even knowing the guy at the Kodak store could see the photo creeped me out. Now women sext to guys just trying to get them interested in going on a date.

The selfie culture is so ubiquitous that there’s a new TV show coming out this fall with that as its name. (It’s actually supposed to be a remake of My Fair Lady. Wha??)

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not coming down on the concept of selfies—I have taken plenty and still get a kick out of them (as evidenced by the photos here). But I do wonder what the impact of this focus on self means in our society. Our desire to capture ourselves for others to see can be funny or interesting, for sure…but it also can be rather self-involved.

I really do wish that there were a few photos of my friend and me on our European expedition. They would have been nice keepsakes to have. But the photos I do have from that trip show the beauty of what we experienced. A far cry from the recent “news” story about Kim Kardasian being in Thailand and snapping 1200 selfies. I’m thinking that she just may have missed the beauty of Thailand, don’t you?

I do feel a bit sheepish—or selfie-indulgent—in sharing the photos I have in this post, but I wanted to share a few old school selfers. It does feel very “look at me!” though. Hope it doesn’t strike you as Kardasian in any way.

That’s just a tad too selfie-ish for my liking.

I Got This. Not. (Aka: Don’t Miss the Bus)

August 25, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 8 Comments

On my very first day of high school, I missed the bus.

Not that big of a deal, right? But it was. That one experience fed on my anxiety and planted a seed that grew a fear of missing any public transportation. Silly, I know, but very real. No matter if I’m catching a train, plane, or bus—until I’m actually on it, I have an internal twitch of dread that I will miss it.

All because of my first day of high school.

You see, I went to a grade school that had no buses, so this wasn’t just my first school bus to high school, but my first school bus ever.

Though starting in a new school is intimidating, I was pretty sure I was properly prepared. In particular, I studied my bus instructions—where the stop was and the number I needed to know. Bus 107. I got this, I thought. (Of course, that expression hadn’t been “invented” yet, so more likely I thought to myself, “Don’t be such a spaz” or “Duh,” but the sentiment was the same.)

That morning, my dad asked, “Are you sure about the bus?”

“Dad, I know what I’m doing…” (Uh-huh, sure you do.)

“Okay, great. Just let me know if you need anything.” (Don’t go far, Dad—I’m going to need to take you up on that offer shortly.)

And off I went.

There I was, standing on the corner I was supposed to, at the time I was supposed to, and within a few minutes, a bus drove by. The bus driver slowed down and called out, “Are you going to Lake Park?”

Isn’t this setting up to be a successful little scenario? After all, Lake Park was my high school! But there was something that wasn’t right. The bus number wasn’t 107, and I was supposed to be on bus 107. My mind quickly jumped to a conclusion—our school had two different campuses—East and West, and my campus was East so this bus must be headed to West! (Not exactly an Einstein in the making since classes at West started at least a half hour earlier than East.)

“Yes, but East!” I shouted back to him. He gave me a look of knitted brows and gestured with his hand up to his ear letting me know he couldn’t quite hear over the engine, so I just waved at him to keep going…he smiled, shrugged, and off he drove.

And then I waited. And waited…And waited.

No more buses came down the street.

Time was running out, and I was risking being late to my first day of high school. I walked back home with tears welling up…How was high school going to be okay if I couldn’t even successfully catch the bus?! I felt remarkably stupid.

I walked into my house where my dad hadn’t yet left for work and was surprised to see me (since I knew what I was doing and all)—by that point I was pretty much sobbing. “Babe, what’s wrong?!”

“I missed the bus, Dad! I couldn’t even get on the bus! I don’t know what happened…some bus came by but it was the wrong num…” he cut me off with a “shhh” and a hug, reassuring me that everything was going to be all right. He’d drive me today, and we would figure out where the problem was for tomorrow.

And that’s exactly what we did. I was on time to school (thank God bus routes are long), and other than that, my high school career began without a hitch. But not without an emotional scar.

Do you want to know the answer to the bus mystery? It’s simple: I thought I was supposed to get on bus 107, but I was really scheduled for route 107. Which is exactly the route that the kind bus driver was driving when he called out to me. As a newbie, I didn’t know that the number of the actual bus meant nothing—but the route number in the window sure did.

Maybe if I would have reviewed the information with my dad when he asked, he could have caught my mistake. Maybe if I wouldn’t have been so quick to think I knew the answer when the bus driver was talking to me and instead asked for help, I would have been on my merry way. Maybe if I wasn’t so ready to show everyone that I knew what I was doing…I might have actually learned what I really needed to know.

Instead, throughout high school I had countless anxiety dreams of missing the bus, or catching the bus but seeing my backpack left behind on the curb, or running after the bus that was going too fast for me to catch, or trying to get on the bus but the bus doors wouldn’t open…you get the idea. The anxiety dragon feasts on these kinds of episodes.

I never missed the bus after that day, but it only took that one time to engrain in me the knee-jerk fear of it ever happening again. It’s a fear that stays with me still today. (Ask my husband how fun it is.)

Of course, as with all trials that come our way, it’s best to try and learn something from them. Yes, I did get a lifetime of public transportation anxiety, but I realized, too, that I shouldn’t be so quick to think I know what I’m talking about—an ever-evolving lesson for me.

Yes, I missed the bus that day in more ways than one, but you better believe it taught me to know life’s route numbers!

Striving to Be Still…and Know

July 21, 2014July 20, 2015 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

This week, I am stepping out of reality. At least my reality. Of course, all will still be real, but not my normal real, and that is something I deeply need.

Continue reading “Striving to Be Still…and Know” →

Notes to My 17-Year-Old Self

July 14, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 9 Comments

I’m trying to rebound from some bug I was blessed with yesterday and not feeling full of ideas to write on, so forgive me if I pick a familiar theme to dwell on today.

Well into my 40s, I am still a major work in progress—not even close to being “finished,” which I don’t think is even possible—at least before the grave. As I share on my About page, I’ve learned a bit late in the game that being broken open is better than keeping everything sealed tight. At 17, I wasn’t about to let anything get close enough to even risk a crack in my facade.

Boy did I (and do I!) have a lot to learn.

Here are some notes I would share with my 17-year-old self:

Stay away from perms. They are not your friend.

Embrace your body—it deserves more credit than you give it. In years to come, you will look back and shake your head at what you once considered “fat.”

Know that several of the friends you cherish now will still be in your life in years to come. Let them in more than you do. It won’t kill you. In fact, you’ll be glad you did. But you are stubborn, and you won’t learn this for many more years.

There are certain people in your life you will never be able to please. Stop trying so hard. It’s more than okay for your life to be a little bit about you.

Those internal battles you face? Those struggles that mess with your head? They have names. They are called anxiety and depression, and once you understand that they are truly things that you can strive to manage—and it’s not just you—the world will start making better sense.

There is such a thing as being loyal to a fault. You will wish you knew this now rather than later.

Love Dad even more…get as many hugs as you can. He will be gone in a mere four years.

You’ve got such a tight lid on things that you don’t even know the depths of this, but you are a mess—not messy, but a mess—and that’s okay. Really. It will take many years for you to realize that there is no merit in acting or thinking otherwise. And many years for you to embrace your messiness and realize that this is one of the best things that will happen to you.

You will walk many different paths in life. Each will lead you to the next right step, even though it is not obvious at the time. Please don’t feel the pressure to find that one calling in life that defines you. You are meant to live your life in chapters, and each one will have merit.

Brace yourself: you are not in control of things. You will learn this lesson (time and again) through a number of twists, turns, and crises that “you” did not plan. But it’s life. Let it happen. Give over the control you never really had. You will not understand how God works. Which is perfectly okay because if you did understand everything about God, he wouldn’t be God. Surrender to that. Surrender to him.

Let love in.

Start with yourself.

You have and are going to have some really awesome people in your life. You are blessed. Remember that when the really crappy people pull you down. Don’t let them grab hold. The Awesomes will not be defeated.

And, finally, you are a lovable knucklehead. If you could be brave now and learn to be vulnerable, life will be much different for you. Instead, you will wait until you’re a much older woman to face that challenge, and it will be harder to teach the old dog new tricks.

But you are one resilient kid. You’ll figure it out…eventually.

PS—invest in these things that are up and coming called “personal computers.” You won’t be sorry.

My Season of beLonging

July 7, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

In the summer of ’78, I betrayed myself. I sold my soul in an effort to fit in.

It was a scar that was forgotten until recently when an old friend posted a pic on Facebook for “ThrowBack Thursday.”

The distinction between being a Chicago White Sox or a Cubs fan is a strong one in my world. Those who say they are fans of both really aren’t baseball fans, in my opinion.

“Cubs or Sox?” was the second question I asked my future husband on our first date. Colors run deep (and good guys wear black). And while the current state of my life and baseball make it harder for me to really follow my team with any depth—it’s still a part of my core.

I grew up a Sox fan in a suburb of Chicago where that meant I was in a minority. I didn’t care—I wore (and wear) the distinction proudly. But in the summer of ’78, I pretended to be a Cubs fan in order to fit in better with my extended family.

I hid my Sox gear and started to watch Cubs games. I had a photo of Bill Buckner on my wall. I even got my hands on a Cubs shirt and wore it–which is what I was wearing in the Facebook photo.

I did all of this because my cousins were Cubs fans, and as we spent more time than usual with them that summer, I desperately longed to fit in.

We are social creatures. Whether introvert or extrovert, the need to connect is strong. For me, it was strong enough to betray what I knew was my truth in order to be accepted as “one of us” by others. As someone who values loyalty above so much else, it hurts to admit.

The betrayal lasted a season before I returned to my senses, and as the years went by, I buried the memory of my weakness. But the Facebook post brought back those memories and opened the door to my infidelity.

Let’s just say I’ve heard about it from a few people.

As a parent, I’ve had more than one conversation with my son (who is coincidentally the same age that I was when this story took place) about the difference between fitting in and belonging. I’ve shared with him how fitting in means altering yourself to be accepted, while belonging means being accepted for who you already are. I’ve shared how I believe this is a struggle throughout most people’s lives in one way or another, and the ultimate goal is to be yourself and then find where you truly belong, while accepting and loving others for their truths, too. (Unless they’re Cubs fans. Just kidding. Oh, shut up. Why don’t you go and think back fondly on your 1908 World Series win?)

Participating in the World Series 2005 Championship Celebration

So, yeah…our team loyalties are strong.

Sox celebration — Did I mention the White Sox were World Series Champs in 2005?

When my son saw the photo on Facebook he was slack jawed and confused. “Mom!?! What is that?!”

As you can see from the photo below, he has been a Sox fan from the start.

And so I had to cop to it and tell him my truth of the summer of ‘78. And it was a funny but teachable moment that reinforced the very point about desiring to belong rather than fit in, and how peer pressure to conform can lead you to compromising your values.

As I wrote in one of my Facebook comments on the photo, I just talked to my son about this—and how peer pressure can cause you to make HORRIBLE choices!!! (Choosing to masquerade as a Cubs fan is just slightly better than choosing crack cocaine!)

Yes, it is a topic that is non-threatening and (somewhat!) light-hearted, but he got the point that altering yourself from what you know is your truth in order to be accepted by others can lead you to choices that can run the gamut from embarrassment to shame and regret—and sometimes even worse.

While I am not about to fool myself into thinking that this is a “one and done” lesson where he will forever make the right choices, I do think it was a memorable example to help drive the message a little deeper. Maybe my season of betrayal had some purpose after all.

We all long to belong—to find that place where we are loved simply for who we are. Where our passions and quirks are accepted, and we are embraced—flaws and all. Where our metaphorical hair can be let down, and not only is it okay, but we have support to help us comb through the tangles.

At the very least, I believe my son knows that one of those places for him is right here with his family where, no matter what, he is loved thoroughly and unconditionally—even if one day he does come home…wearing Cubby blue.

And…Action!

June 30, 2014June 30, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

When I was 9, I learned how to juggle. When I was a senior in high school, I won the P.E. Student of the Year based primarily on the fact that in our unit on Circus Stunts (oh yes, we did) I could juggle. (Let’s just say I took a little ribbing about that from my all-state wrestler friend.)

Juggling for me is like riding a bike—I can go a long time without doing it, but I never forget how. That’s why when I heard of a casting call for jugglers for the web series Tough Season 2*, I had the nerve to apply for it.

And I was chosen. To juggle. On camera.

Me.

And here is my story of the day I became a professional juggler.

I was told to bring “hippie attire” because it was a scene where a bunch of free spirits are at a juggling retreat. I raided my closet and found whatever might possibly be considered such, and off I went.

As soon as I arrived, I immediately feared I wasn’t worthy of being there. Walking behind another extra with a rolling suitcase, I commented, “Wow, you brought a suitcase…” to which he responded, “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

It was for me.

I stood in line for wardrobe between an older man and a young woman who recognized each other from a juggling event they both attended last year.

Oh, boy, was I out of my league.

The girl had a suitcase full of juggling clubs and hippie wear, and there I was with just my three balls.

I was a juggling fraud. What was I thinking when I said yes to this?

And if that wasn’t welcoming enough, there was Mr. Professional Extra who felt compelled to tell me how things are NORMally done. Over and over again. And then one more time, just in case.

The wardrobe woman looked my duds over and quickly decided I needed more, so she added a shimmering jacket, boa, and free flowing skirt to my top, and I was deemed acceptable.

my "free spirit" outfit — practicing in my “free spirit” outfit

Though my clothes were given a thumbs up, I still wondered if I had what it took. The casting agent told me all levels of ability were welcomed, but it’s amazing how quickly I was ready to discount myself.

By the time we walked out to the set, the jugglers had all introduced ourselves and broken the ice with a few laughs here and there. We all wondered how it would be when the cameras were rolling. It was good to know I wasn’t alone in my doubt.

And then we started to practice…and…I wasn’t the worst. I wasn’t near the best, but…I had every right to be there.

Now there was just this little hurdle left of being able to juggle after the word “action!” was shouted.

The actor who played the juggling teacher was to say, “Remember—the first rule of juggling is not to drop the balls!” while we all juggled our little hearts out.

Of course, the line was delivered, and inevitably one of us would drop the balls. Not that that was a deal breaker—because we were supposed to be at a retreat learning—but it was funny how we spazzed out just because we knew the cameras were rolling.

How many things are like that in life? Where you are able to do something just fine, and then you’re under a little pressure and suddenly you lose the control you thought you had?

It was as though my day as a “real” juggler was like a living metaphor for this blog—I can juggle. I will drop the balls. And then I will pick them up and start over again. And it’s the same for everyone else—no matter how skilled you are. We all can feel the pressure, make mistakes, and then choose to give up or pick up and begin again.

Sometimes trying too hard not to fail results in exactly that: failure.

Accepting that there will be the inevitable dropped ball here and there makes me a better juggler.

Before I knew it, the scene was over and we were done. We still had to hang out and wait…and wait…to see if we might be needed, but the overall experience was really a whole lot of fun.

I not only made some nice pocket money, but I learned I did have what it takes after all, and I had a great reminder to share with you here—that the juggling life we lead will always have dropped balls, and though it may get harder when life shouts, “Action!” we need to shut down the doubts and focus—and we will get the job done.

And, ultimately…knowing how to pick up the balls and keep going is maybe the most important skill of all.

*The web series Tough Season is in its second season and is a production of the NFL, the Onion, and Lenovo. I’ve watched some episodes and found it to be amusing. If you’re interested, check it out on IMBD and The Onion.

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