I spent the morning thinking about all of the Philly businesses (my local dream clients) that I would love, love, love to write for, but sometimes it can be hard to pitch a really cool business/idea alone. Wouldn’t it be great if we could find others with similar client interests or at least similar hobbies and passions in our creative community? Imagine if you wanted to pitch a tea company, and you had a list with the names and emails of a web designer, writer, developer that loved tea? Just think of the passionate work that would flow from that team. 

So here is my idea: writers, developers, designers, project managers, programmers, etc interested in “my local dream client” would send me a list of his or her local dream clients, whether it’s the Philadelphia Museum of Art or the bakery down the street. I would then match up any exact clients or similar interests and send the list out to everyone. Sure, it’s not a groundbreaking idea, but just another way to connect the Philly creative community and support our local businesses.

So until my local dream clients start calling me up, I’m going to take some steps to get closer to them. Some call it stalking, but I call it creative perseverance.

If you’re interested, just send your local dream clients my way.

alexis.siemons@gmail.com

Following a marathon email session, I realized that my email signature varied throughout and was ridden with several nicknames. I won’t go into the details of each nickname (for the sake of my own embarrassment and to spare you the boredom), but the lengthy list includes variations and abbreviations of my actual name (lex, lexi, elx) in addition to endearing/created names (songbird, etc) that have been assigned to me over the years.

As the names float above me in a cloud of self definition, I wonder how I do not have multiple personalities linked to these various names. However, I don’t feel overwhelmed or misdefined, but rather proud of the many selfs that I wear like a wordy Scarlett Letter t-shirt. 

The concept of the nickname is one that intrigues me greatly. Some of us walk around being referred to by our last name, our middle name, an abbreviation of a lengthy name our parents’ gave us without the thought of the obvious nickname path, names that are earned from embarrassing stories, etc. 

Nicknames are also endearing terms that are created and shared between people that are close and spend enough time together to occasionally veer from the legal name. At the same time, fabricated names can also have negative connotations, and are often voiced during the painful middle school years.

Overall, the nickname genre that fascinates me the most is the single letter name. On occasion, I come across a friend who has heavily abbreviated his or her name to a single letter: Madeline to M and Jack to J. I happen to enjoy the single letter nickname, as it alludes to a rockstar quality and a certain confidence that comes from knowing that you will be recognized by just one letter (maybe the tags in their clothes were heavily monogrammed as a child. oh moms’ and their permanent markers).

Even though I enjoy the one letter nickname, I am not sure if I could or would want to sign off as “A”. There is a lot of pressure to leave the first letter of the alphabet as your signature, not to mention the fact that I have never been fond of the angularity of the uppercase “A” (I often sign my full name with a lowercase a, as it’s more visually appealing). 

I seem to have ignored the concept of a short nickname with this lengthy post, and will now bring it to a close. What are your thoughts on nicknames?

I’m working on a short story with a character who is dealing with the emotional pain of keeping secrets, her own and those told to her in confidence. I was really trying to capture the anguish while maintaing a sense of silence, and this is what I finally went with: 

“Madeline tried to look blankly into his eyes. She clenched her lips together and drew them in tight, until the pink pout seemed to disappear from her porcelain face. The secrets inside her felt like a swarm of bees trapped in her mouth. Stingers pricked her cheeks, but she couldn’t part her lips in fear that they would escape, stinging him. Her tongue began to swell, she always knew she was allergic to secrets.”

How would you describe what it feels like to keep secrets?

Y is a wonderful letter that casually associates with vowels and hangs out at the end of the alphabet soaking up all the previous letters without the pressure of being the final one…..anyway-I digress. About two weeks ago, I was starting off my morning with some free writing and had difficulty locating the Y key on my keyboard. As my brain began to wake up and direct my finger to the Y key, I started to think about why this lapse occurred, but seconds later my phone rang and the standout Y assumed its place with the rest of the letters.

Hours later I was chatting with a friend on my cell while struggling to plug the charger in, and as a result I dropped my phone on my keyboard. After explaining the incident to my confused friend, I noticed that my Y key had popped off (my first keyboard damage ever). I attempted to do DIY keyboard surgery but failed and passed the task on to a professional at a computer store who quickly attached my Y back to its lettered family.

Although this may seem like an insignificant experience to anyone else, I found it rather interesting. I had two unique encounters with the Y key in one day, and I asked myself why Y? or simply stated, Y? Was my keyboard telling me to ask more questions, question things more? If so it succeeded. Maybe it was lonely and wanted some attention. The Y key should be happy to know that after that fateful day it sits a little higher than the rest of my keys after its reattachment. Crazy how one simple letter can spur an entire blog post!

This past month I decided to create a cookbook filled with my grandmother’s recipes, which would be a birthday gift for my mother. I started by searching for few pictures of my grandmother, one of which would become the cover photo above (my grandmother is the woman in the middle). I then began scrambling around my mother’s kitchen on an edible treasure hunt for scraps of paper with my grandmother’s recipes. After enduring a few paper cuts while paging through cookbooks for hidden recipe cards, I came across the long lost prized possession, my grandmother’s green Betty Crocker recipe box (hidden behind stacks of books). The avocado green plastic suddenly resembled a treasure chest filled with culinary treasure maps, her recipes. I quickly swiped the box, and upon returning home I carefully opened it and was overwhelmed by the scraps of notebook paper, old calendar pages, and note cards filled with delectable concoctions.

While compiling her handwritten recipes, I discovered a true sense of her passion for food and family. I can imagine her feverishly writing a recipe on a scrap of paper, and quickly placing it inside her green Betty Crocker recipe card library. Now the recipe box is filled to the brim, and upon opening it you feel as though you are unlocking a secret to happiness, to her spirit, to her love.

After typing and organizing around 60 recipes, scanning in photos of family at the table and writing a brief introduction, I was ready to press print. When the book arrived, I was delighted to hold culinary history in my hands. I felt as if I had printed and preserved a bit of her spirit that would hopefully have a better chance of being passed on for years to come.

(Quick shout out to blurb.com. I was easily able to create and print this book with the help of their fabulous application and services. I’ve already been inspired to start creating another book-more on that later)

A couple of weeks ago I was paying for my lunch at a diner and noticed a “Give a penny, Take a penny” dish next to the cash register. Upon receiving my change I dropped a penny in the dish. Now unlike other change deposits, this isn’t a wishing well or a piggy bank-it’s a dish full of pennies to share with one another. I think it’s wonderful that we’re willing to give something to a complete stranger. I understand that it’s only a penny, but it’s still something and the charitable act has lasted for years.

Usually I subconsciously drop a penny or two in the tray, but this time I really started to notice the dishes that were sometimes trays or cups and made of wood, plastic or metal. While paying close attention to the physical penny deposits, I did notice that the there seemed to be a penny shortage (only a few lonely Lincolns were wading in the bottom on the dish). Maybe it was because I was younger and not as observant, but I thought I recalled an overflow of copper. Regardless, it’s still great to see a nice gesture in physical form out in the world. I just hope there are more givers than takers.

I often feel guilty taking a penny (thanks to Quaker school), and what usually happens is that the cashier hands me the penny to use or just takes it for me. Now the next time I have pennies in a transaction, I always try to leave one or two-literally paying it forward for myself and anyone else a penny short from an ice cream cone. On that note, do you ever wonder what your penny is going towards? Hopefully not lottery tickets or cigarettes. Come to think of it, there should be two separate penny trays: “Give a penny, Take a penny for cigarettes and lottery tickets” and another one for everything else.

Here’s to the penny givers. Thanks for helping me out when I came up short. The coffee was delicious, the ice cream was to die for, etc. etc. etc.

I owe you….a penny.

Whenever life gets stressful I just close my eyes and think of simple things that bring a smile to my face. Now I don’t break into song as if I was making a guest appearance in The Sound of Music (maybe sometimes-but only in my apartment). Anyway, it may seem silly-but I think that it’s truly wonderful that memories can instantly take us to a place of calm.

Some of my favorites:

walking through a rain shower of flower petals from a towering tree

the smell of fresh lavender

listening to water stream underground in a gutter after a strong rain

holding hands with someone on a cold day

picking a fig from its tree and eating it immediately

It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed, disappointed and frustrated-but it can be just as easy to slip away for a second, close your eyes and breathe. I keep these memories on hold and when I need a burst of energy I press play. I imagine each one as a slide in a projector in the back of my brain-just waiting there for me to flick the switch.

“I need to buy land. I want to own a piece of the United States. I want a home.”

Those were the words from a nearby table that gravitated to my ear as I was sitting in a café. The phrases instantly struck my mind, cutting off circulation to all other thoughts at that moment. It made me think about the concept of owning land vs. renting.

As a renter I often think about the concept of “home” and how we create it. I’ve explored this idea in songs and essays, but never in a poem–until now. This poem is in its earliest stage-but I wanted to share it anyway. Who knows, my edits and lengthening may ruin it, so I might as well share it while it’s raw.

Transient

I am the eternal wandering soul

renting the concept of home

and sending the custody check for my floors

to the landlord

I paint the walls with black and white

pictures of my life

temporary tattoos that I constantly reapply

but I tell everyone they’re real

and they don’t believe me

Underneath these pictures

behind the couch

are scars from other wanderers

Who left their “home”

like they would leave their lover

vulnerable

empty

until someone else comes along

to fill the space

and cover the walls

until it gets cold again

too cold to stay

I carry letters

with different street names

and numbers

where I used to sit

and have notes sent to

but I’m gone

before the ink can dry

in anyone’s address book

The land of the free

where I am free of land

Painting imaginary walls of home

that I wipe clean with boxes

and moving tape

Maybe one day in spring

I’ll find a room with a chair

to sit in

and the branches

will push through the windows

and wrap their new sprouts

around each finger

resting buds on my wrist

and when they blossom

I’ll decide to stay

and watch it change to winter

stay for a while

maybe then

maybe.

Last week I visited the Philadelphia Free Library-Central Branch to hear an amazing person speak-Dr. Muhammad Yunus.

Brief info about Dr. Yunus:
“One of the ”Greatest Entrepreneurs of All Time” (BusinessWeek), economist Muhammad Yunus received the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize with Grameen Bank, which he founded to provide microloans to poor entrepreneurs otherwise unable to qualify for traditional bank loans. Contrary to the assertions of skeptical critics, 98% of these microloans are repaid, higher than any other banking system, and similar projects now operate in much of the world, including the United States.”

I had read articles about the work of Dr. Yunus and was truly amazed and excited to actually hear what he had to say in person. After arriving almost an hour early for the lecture, I headed downstairs to the auditorium and claimed a seat three rows from the stage. Slowly the room began to fill up and everyone was buzzing.

When Dr. Yunus finally made his way onto the stage he was greeted with a hearty anticipatory applause that would be well deserved. He spoke about how he started Grameen Bank and the journey he took to get it where it is. He made simple statements that were so powerful and inspirational, that they seemed to be hitting everyone in the soul.

His initial desire to help others came about when he saw poverty around him and felt “useless as a human being”, which pushed him to lend money to help others change their lives. This concept of “lending” is so important. If we lend time and money we are essentially investing in a better future.

Yunus also proposed that we have Social MBAs to teach prospective business owners how lead businesses that are socially conscious. He also spoke of a social stock market, where we would invest in companies that we knew were doing something good for the world. It’s about having “social business dollars [that] have an endless life and can recycle.” As he neared the end of his lecture, he asked us to imagine the day that we would need a poverty museum to show the horrors and injustices that we evolved from. Think about that for a second.

I left feeling enlightened and invigorated. During my walk home I started thinking about how important it is to transform the world from the inside out. It all comes down to our souls, hearts and our genuine care for the people in our world. We need to stop worrying about the exterior–the landscapes, the plastic surgery, and the clothes–and start looking inward. Dr. Yunus has created a bank that will change the world-he has done the hard work-now all we need to do is invest in mankind.

I could write pages about my experience-but instead I’ll just recommend that you listen the mp3 of his lecture. Huge thanks to the Free Library for the mp3 and for bringing life changing speakers like Dr. Yunus to Philadelphia!

I have a very sad confession to make: The last time I was in a library was back in college (almost three years ago this June). Since graduating and moving into Philadelphia Barnes & Noble and Borders have become my city libraries (gasp!).

Anyway, last week I made my way over to the Central Library for an amazing lecture (more on that in another post).

As I neared the historic stone building I was overwhelmed by it’s beauty and mass. I stepped inside and felt a sudden excitement from being surrounded by information. I had time to explore before the lecture and found myself climbing stairs to the art section, climbing back down to see photo exhibit, then back up again for literature, and back down again for music. I probably looked overly caffeinated to those around me, as I buzzed about with a smile frozen on my face. 

I couldn’t believe that for almost three years I was using chain bookstores as a substitute. Grabbing a book about Jazz from the shelf, I was delighted to see a gorgeous green leather cover aged with use, which was a nice contrast to the “25% off” sticker that covers many books at Borders, etc. I walked in several rooms delighted that I wasn’t being confronted with a table telling me what the best sellers were or a large aisle of bargain books. My mind switched from consumer to reader. It was fabulous.

I was so absorbed with exploring, that I almost missed the lecture. Unfortunately I had to leave shortly after the lecture, but left revitalized and excited to return very soon!