I study aging. A common laugh line used in public presentations is that it is an important field of study because everyone is aging, from the moment we are conceived we are getting older.
Even me.
I take classes at a small gym near my house where I am by far the oldest member. I could be everyone's mother. Laughing, I told the owner I thought it was important for me to keep coming because I set the low bar for everyone else. If the old lady can do it, surely they could, too.
Ten years ago an orthopedic surgeon said that ACL reconstruction was not indicated for someone "my age."
A speech therapist has been helping me resolve a problem I have with vocal chord spasms. After I expressed frustration with not being able to fix the problem faster, she noted that "with age" our voices change and that I need to learn to work with those changes.
I still have one baby tooth. For whatever reason, the permanent tooth never came in. At my last check-up the dentist noted that the bone around that tooth was starting to dissolve. "It happens with age," was his explanation.
I am quite often offered the senior discount at movie theaters, restaurants, and other venues. Although I don't technically qualify based on age, I've decided to use my gray hair advantage. I should get something for my "age."
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Monday, November 30, 2015
What matters?
I'm living in a city dealing with racial tension head-on. A university campus two miles away is closed under threat of violence. Colleagues on campuses across the country are facing difficult questions about the balance of free speech and rights.
But, what is on my agenda today:
Some days I wonder what difference these things make. Does it matter? Do I matter? Am I accomplishing anything?
Let me look at each of those more closely.
Bulletin info: This is where I state the purpose of our college--to bridge the gap between technology and people. The goal of our program is to help people understand the role of technology in their lives and how to make sense of it, to encourage students to think broadly and critically about the future, to encourage students to pursue these as serious areas of study.
Promotion and tenure: Here I have a chance to shape the face of academia, to show the value of scholarly work in new areas, to reward collaboration and interdisciplinary efforts, to support the role of diverse voices in our institution.
Leadership: how do we prepare students to be thoughtful, informed citizens?
Grades: Helping a student understand the value of honesty and hard work, while still respecting a student's point of view and balancing the need to learn from mistakes against the need to maintain standards.
Budget: What is important? How do we support our mission? How can I help faculty members achieve their goals? How do I engage alumni and friends?
When I start to wonder if what I'm doing matters, I remember one day from second grade. It was late spring and I sat at my desk, head bowed over my paper, pencil gripped tightly in my hand. I don't know what the subject was that had my attention, but I remember the feeling of intense concentration, the warmth of the afternoon sun through the windows, the quiet of the room. As I worked my teacher came by, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, "Good job, Chris." She probably said those words a hundred times a day, year after year, student after student. Why did they mean so much that day? I don't know, but they have stayed with me for over 50 years.
I'm sure there are days she wondered if it made any difference, if what she was doing mattered. I know she did make a difference, and it did matter.
Some days I think what I'm doing matters very little, other days how much it might matter scares me.
But, what is on my agenda today:
- Edit information describing our academic programs for the university bulletin
- Review a faculty member's materials for promotion and tenure and start drafting a letter of support
- Meet to discuss leadership initiatives on campus
- Meet with a student appealing a grade
- Begin budget planning for next fiscal year with my budget director
Some days I wonder what difference these things make. Does it matter? Do I matter? Am I accomplishing anything?
Let me look at each of those more closely.
Bulletin info: This is where I state the purpose of our college--to bridge the gap between technology and people. The goal of our program is to help people understand the role of technology in their lives and how to make sense of it, to encourage students to think broadly and critically about the future, to encourage students to pursue these as serious areas of study.
Promotion and tenure: Here I have a chance to shape the face of academia, to show the value of scholarly work in new areas, to reward collaboration and interdisciplinary efforts, to support the role of diverse voices in our institution.
Leadership: how do we prepare students to be thoughtful, informed citizens?
Grades: Helping a student understand the value of honesty and hard work, while still respecting a student's point of view and balancing the need to learn from mistakes against the need to maintain standards.
Budget: What is important? How do we support our mission? How can I help faculty members achieve their goals? How do I engage alumni and friends?
When I start to wonder if what I'm doing matters, I remember one day from second grade. It was late spring and I sat at my desk, head bowed over my paper, pencil gripped tightly in my hand. I don't know what the subject was that had my attention, but I remember the feeling of intense concentration, the warmth of the afternoon sun through the windows, the quiet of the room. As I worked my teacher came by, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, "Good job, Chris." She probably said those words a hundred times a day, year after year, student after student. Why did they mean so much that day? I don't know, but they have stayed with me for over 50 years.
I'm sure there are days she wondered if it made any difference, if what she was doing mattered. I know she did make a difference, and it did matter.
Some days I think what I'm doing matters very little, other days how much it might matter scares me.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Adding
Last night the trainer offered one piece of advice that really hit home on many levels. He suggested that rather than cutting things out of my diet, I try adding things in. Add more vegetables, add more fruit, add more protein. By focusing on what you are adding, rather than subtracting, positive changes will naturally happen and be less stressful.
I think that is good advice generally. Focus on positive additions instead of negative subtractions. Focus on adding good things to your life, more fun, more enjoyment, more pleasure. Think less about what you shouldn't be doing, and more about what you want to do. I think I'll try that out.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Car Talks
In today's New York Times, Frank Bruni has a column about the value of spending extended periods of time with family members (http://nyti.ms/1UtRZly). He points out how often, only with such time, do private thoughts and feelings get expressed. He gives several examples, but one in particular caught my eye,
"I know how my 80-year-old father feels about dying, religion and God not because I scheduled a discrete encounter to discuss all of that with him. I know because I happened to be in the passenger seat of his car when such thoughts were on his mind and when, for whatever unforeseeable reason, he felt comfortable articulating them."
What intrigued me about this encounter was not the subject matter, but the setting---a car. I am convinced that almost all important conversations take place in cars. All of the serious discussions I have had with my sons have been in cars. Talks about sex, love, friendships, marriage, mistakes, divorce, death, dreams, failures, hopes. All car talks.
Why? For one, nobody can physically leave. You are stuck there together and you can't escape. There is a physical closeness that creates an intimate environment. At the same time, you aren't looking at each other. No eye contact creates a sense of distance, a comfortable detachment. A discussion can be focused, but not too intense. The driver has to focus at least part of their attention on the road and the passenger can look out the window at the scenery or passing cars. Long drives are especially good for these talks. Long stretches of sitting inevitably lead to boredom, which leads to thinking, which leads, when someone is sitting 2 feet away, to talking.
Bill Harley, the storyteller, has noticed the same thing. In his story, "Sex Ed," he argues that the only value of the invention of the internal combustion engine was to give parents a place to talk about sex with their kids, "because at 50 miles per hour, with the doors locked, they can't jump out."
The other value of cars is that children seem to believe there is a shield between the front and back seats. Sitting in the back, talking to their friends, you as the driver become invisible. A wealth of valuable information about the social dynamics of pre-teens can be gleaned from their conversations.
Where did these talks occur before cars? In buggies or wagons? Around the fireplace?
"I know how my 80-year-old father feels about dying, religion and God not because I scheduled a discrete encounter to discuss all of that with him. I know because I happened to be in the passenger seat of his car when such thoughts were on his mind and when, for whatever unforeseeable reason, he felt comfortable articulating them."
What intrigued me about this encounter was not the subject matter, but the setting---a car. I am convinced that almost all important conversations take place in cars. All of the serious discussions I have had with my sons have been in cars. Talks about sex, love, friendships, marriage, mistakes, divorce, death, dreams, failures, hopes. All car talks.
Why? For one, nobody can physically leave. You are stuck there together and you can't escape. There is a physical closeness that creates an intimate environment. At the same time, you aren't looking at each other. No eye contact creates a sense of distance, a comfortable detachment. A discussion can be focused, but not too intense. The driver has to focus at least part of their attention on the road and the passenger can look out the window at the scenery or passing cars. Long drives are especially good for these talks. Long stretches of sitting inevitably lead to boredom, which leads to thinking, which leads, when someone is sitting 2 feet away, to talking.
Bill Harley, the storyteller, has noticed the same thing. In his story, "Sex Ed," he argues that the only value of the invention of the internal combustion engine was to give parents a place to talk about sex with their kids, "because at 50 miles per hour, with the doors locked, they can't jump out."
The other value of cars is that children seem to believe there is a shield between the front and back seats. Sitting in the back, talking to their friends, you as the driver become invisible. A wealth of valuable information about the social dynamics of pre-teens can be gleaned from their conversations.
Where did these talks occur before cars? In buggies or wagons? Around the fireplace?
Monday, August 31, 2015
Learning Curves
Last week I attended an interesting lecture on urban education. One speaker in particular caught my attention when he talked about learning curves. We usually think of the learning curve as a steadily upward rising curve, the more time and effort expended, the greater the sense of mastery. Like this:
Now, it is not usually a straight line. Sometimes the initial phase will be steep, followed by a slower increase, some times the initial phase will be shallow, followed by a steep in increase. But, in this formulation the relationship between effort and mastery is always positive.
What this panelist pointed out was that often the learning curve looks more like this:
There is initial learning, followed by a dip, a period where you feel like you know LESS than when you started. He talked about this as being a period of "unlearning," a time when you need to reexamine preconceived notions and ideas, where you need to see new relationships and abandon old ideas. The world doesn't work the way you thought it did.
The problem is that during this time you will feel vulnerable. You feel lost, unsure, and afraid. If you aren't in a supportive environment you may never get through that stage. You give up. You feel defeated. The subject is "too hard." Good teachers/leaders/mentors can help.
I think this concept applies to so many situations in life, from learning a new language to learning a new way of thinking about yourself. Being aware of those moments of vulnerability, and supporting others through them, seems to be one of the best ways to be a friend.
Now, it is not usually a straight line. Sometimes the initial phase will be steep, followed by a slower increase, some times the initial phase will be shallow, followed by a steep in increase. But, in this formulation the relationship between effort and mastery is always positive.
What this panelist pointed out was that often the learning curve looks more like this:
There is initial learning, followed by a dip, a period where you feel like you know LESS than when you started. He talked about this as being a period of "unlearning," a time when you need to reexamine preconceived notions and ideas, where you need to see new relationships and abandon old ideas. The world doesn't work the way you thought it did.
The problem is that during this time you will feel vulnerable. You feel lost, unsure, and afraid. If you aren't in a supportive environment you may never get through that stage. You give up. You feel defeated. The subject is "too hard." Good teachers/leaders/mentors can help.
I think this concept applies to so many situations in life, from learning a new language to learning a new way of thinking about yourself. Being aware of those moments of vulnerability, and supporting others through them, seems to be one of the best ways to be a friend.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Magical Wardrobes
I've been thinking about wardrobes a lot lately, not my own wardrobe of clothes, but those magical pieces of furniture that seem to feature prominently in fairy tales and English stories. The most famous must be C.S. Lewis' "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe," but they seem to pop up in lots of stories, Harry Potter included.
Why are wardrobes so much more appealing than closets as story elements? I've never had a wardrobe, but I do remember playing in my closet as a kid. Is it only historical? Older homes didn't have closets, so wardrobes were needed. But, what is it about them that makes them such strong characters?
Maybe they allow a safe place for imagination to take hold. They are dark and mysterious, they are hiding places, they are filled with an odd assortment of stuff--old shoes, fur coats, silk dresses.
In wardrobes you can retreat to the womb, wrap yourself in a safe, warm, dark place. In a small enclosed space you can hide from fears. Wardrobes always seem so much bigger in stories, whole legions of children fit inside of them, but I've never seen one that big in real life.
But why don't closets hold the same magic? Stories seem to use closets as places for punishment, where an adult puts a child, not where a child goes willingly. Maybe closets are too modern to be magical, too mundane and ordinary.
There are days I wish I had a wardrobe....
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Late night at the rest stop
I'm quite familiar with the highway rest areas in New York, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. Over the
years I've probably been in every one across the stretch of I-90 crossing those states. I've seen them remodeled and refurbished, the food options expand, the restrooms improve. Inside they represent a microcosm of American society. At any time you will meet people from different ethnic groups all anxious for at least one of three things--a toilet, food, or gas. Like Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the rest stop places us all at our most basic level.
The rest stop late at night is a different scene. The diversity is the same, but the groggy faces convey the exhaustion of late night travel. Small children stumble in their half awake state. Mothers ask for hot water at McDonald's to warm bottles. Hyped up toddlers race around or collapse in tears. Rest stops are not usually places for fun and games, but at midnight there are few smiles. I wonder why these people are traveling at this time. Is it a jump start on vacation? Easier traveling while children sleep? Emergency trips or last minute plans?
Monday, June 8, 2015
How to live with gray hair, 12 easy steps
To help out those late to the gray hair trend, I've prepared this list.
1. Start young. If you start getting gray hair when you are young, you have a long time to get used to the idea that you are aging. You have a jump start on other women. By starting young, you can gradually get used to the idea that you will go gray, then you will die. Facing this at 25 is easier than at 85.
2. Decide on what you will call your hair—gray, grey, white, silver.
3. Be frugal. If you are frugal you will decide early on that you will be spending a small fortune over your lifetime if you start dying your hair. If you are gray young (see #1) then you are facing as many as 60 years of hair coloring. This could start with “highlights” to blend in the gray, then progress to dying. You will need to touch up your roots. You will need to make decisions about changing colors. And, if you ever decide to stop, you will need to deal with the growing out period.
4. Use purple shampoo. Always.
5. Be prepared for compliments. Younger women (under 70) with gray hair will be stopped. You may receive compliments when you are walking in the mall. You may have men stop you on the street to comment on your hair. You may have women roughly your age, standing behind you on the jetway, tap you on the shoulder and whisper, “I just have to tell you your hair is gorgeous.” You may have women interrupt your podcast listening on the commuter train to ask you about your hair.
6. Be prepared for being mistaken for your child’s grandmother (by adults). If you are gray young (see #1) and have your children late, you may be mistaken for a grandmother. Shopping clerks may say, “Oh, how nice. Grandma has the baby today!” They may ask, “How old is your grandson?”
7. Be prepared for being mistaken for your child’s grandmother (by children). When you take your child to kindergarten, another child may say, “Are you Evan’s Grandma?”
8. Use purple conditioner. Always.
9. Enjoy the discomfort of clerks who try to decide whether or not to offer you a senior discount. Watch them squirm—is it better to err on the side of offending by asking or not asking?
10. Be prepared for women to say, “I wish my gray hair looked like that.” Truth is, most of them have NO IDEA what their gray hair looks like (see #3, re: coloring).
11. Learn to be assertive. When you have gray hair and think it might be fun to have a pink streak and go to the beauty store looking for temporary color and the clerk shows you to the root touch up products rather than the fun-glo pink you are looking for, correct her.
12. Enjoy the benefit of young men (sometimes) offering you a seat on the L.
1. Start young. If you start getting gray hair when you are young, you have a long time to get used to the idea that you are aging. You have a jump start on other women. By starting young, you can gradually get used to the idea that you will go gray, then you will die. Facing this at 25 is easier than at 85.
2. Decide on what you will call your hair—gray, grey, white, silver.
3. Be frugal. If you are frugal you will decide early on that you will be spending a small fortune over your lifetime if you start dying your hair. If you are gray young (see #1) then you are facing as many as 60 years of hair coloring. This could start with “highlights” to blend in the gray, then progress to dying. You will need to touch up your roots. You will need to make decisions about changing colors. And, if you ever decide to stop, you will need to deal with the growing out period.
4. Use purple shampoo. Always.
5. Be prepared for compliments. Younger women (under 70) with gray hair will be stopped. You may receive compliments when you are walking in the mall. You may have men stop you on the street to comment on your hair. You may have women roughly your age, standing behind you on the jetway, tap you on the shoulder and whisper, “I just have to tell you your hair is gorgeous.” You may have women interrupt your podcast listening on the commuter train to ask you about your hair.
6. Be prepared for being mistaken for your child’s grandmother (by adults). If you are gray young (see #1) and have your children late, you may be mistaken for a grandmother. Shopping clerks may say, “Oh, how nice. Grandma has the baby today!” They may ask, “How old is your grandson?”
7. Be prepared for being mistaken for your child’s grandmother (by children). When you take your child to kindergarten, another child may say, “Are you Evan’s Grandma?”
8. Use purple conditioner. Always.
9. Enjoy the discomfort of clerks who try to decide whether or not to offer you a senior discount. Watch them squirm—is it better to err on the side of offending by asking or not asking?
10. Be prepared for women to say, “I wish my gray hair looked like that.” Truth is, most of them have NO IDEA what their gray hair looks like (see #3, re: coloring).
11. Learn to be assertive. When you have gray hair and think it might be fun to have a pink streak and go to the beauty store looking for temporary color and the clerk shows you to the root touch up products rather than the fun-glo pink you are looking for, correct her.
12. Enjoy the benefit of young men (sometimes) offering you a seat on the L.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
What I weigh
The first time it happened I was buying a Christmas tree.
Standing in a rural Pennsylvania field, the farmer pulled off his work glove
and extended his calloused hand, “I’ve never shaken hands with a professor
before.”
The last time it happened was Friday. Sitting in a meeting miles away from the
office, I sent an encouraging email to a faculty member struggling to maintain
control of a committee. He replied,
“Thanks, Chris. I needed that.”
How did my word, my mere presence, get this power? I can impress and encourage, scold and
rebuke. But, I am nobody. I am not
different or better or smarter. I can’t
sing very well, draw, or paint. I am terrible at remembering names. I always,
always burn garlic toast in the broiler.
It did get me thinking about the weight we assign to things in our lives. The weight attached to words and actions. I'm like everyone else, I imagine. I enjoy hearing words of praise from others and words of criticism can cut sharply. I put my trust in the experience and wisdom of physicians, realtors, and hair stylists. Realizing that others are trusting my experience and wisdom gives me pause. What I do and say matters to others, affects them either positively or negatively. My words have weight, which makes me think I need to weigh each one carefully.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Christine Lagarde, Part II
When I wrote four years ago that I had a crush on Christine Lagarde (http://profhimes.blogspot.com/2011/07/christine-lagarde.html) never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would meet her.
Yesterday I did. And, if possible, I am even more in love.
She was the commencement speaker this year for my university. Her son was graduating and she was hear to celebrate him and to deliver an address. The evening before commencement she attended a small dinner, honoring the honorary degree recipients and commencement speakers. I was there. Not because of her, but because luckily one of the honorary degree recipients this year had been nominated by my college.
After dinner I summoned the courage to go over and introduce myself. I told her who I was and she said, "I love your hair." I then joked that I had offered to fill in for her if she couldn't be here--both Christine's, same hair, nobody would notice. We laughed. I told her I had long admired her and her insights on women in leadership. She said she would be including some remarks about that in her address, "After all," she said, "if not me, than who?" She mentioned that she had recently been on a panel with Janet Yellen and they had commented at the beginning that if they heard any statements about their hair and they were walking out.
I had someone snap a photo and I floated home.
Yesterday I did. And, if possible, I am even more in love.
She was the commencement speaker this year for my university. Her son was graduating and she was hear to celebrate him and to deliver an address. The evening before commencement she attended a small dinner, honoring the honorary degree recipients and commencement speakers. I was there. Not because of her, but because luckily one of the honorary degree recipients this year had been nominated by my college.
After dinner I summoned the courage to go over and introduce myself. I told her who I was and she said, "I love your hair." I then joked that I had offered to fill in for her if she couldn't be here--both Christine's, same hair, nobody would notice. We laughed. I told her I had long admired her and her insights on women in leadership. She said she would be including some remarks about that in her address, "After all," she said, "if not me, than who?" She mentioned that she had recently been on a panel with Janet Yellen and they had commented at the beginning that if they heard any statements about their hair and they were walking out.
I had someone snap a photo and I floated home.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Not that kind of woman...
I've found that there is a certain assumption made about me as a single woman in academia by other female academics...that I am a liberal feminist thinker. I'm not. I'm a liberal. I'm a feminist. I'm a thinker. But not all those things put together. I don't want to spend my evenings discussing patriarchy and oppression. I'm not well-versed in the theories of feminist thought. I believe everyone's work should be valued and I understand that has not always been the case. I am grateful for women who were willing to stand up for their rights and I will fight for mine. But, I'm not interested in talking about it endlessly with other women. I'm not interested in identifying all the ways I've been slighted or diminished or made invisible. I have my stories, from time to time I share them, but I also believe that there are many men who truly would be more understanding and thoughtful if they didn't feel every move they made or word they said was being judged and weighed.
Monday, February 2, 2015
About my hair, more or less...
I got my hair cut this weekend.
It has only been in recent years that I began to experience that unique relationship between stylist and client. I'm not a naturally effusive or talkative person, so it's not as if I've shared any deep secrets or thoughts. Yet, my ambivalence and insecurity about my hair (my being?) has seemed evident to each of them.
I started getting grey (gray? silver? white?) hair in my late 20's. The idea of coloring my hair for the next 60 years or so was not appealing. I have vivid memories of my mother's home dyes--the smell, the dripping, the weird results. I decided then that I wouldn't start. There are things I like about my hair, and I'm often randomly complimented on its color and appearance. I've been stopped on the street, in stores, and at work by people wanting to comment on my hair. Just two weeks ago, boarding a plane in DC, a woman standing behind me leaned forward to whisper, "Excuse me, but I have to tell you your hair is stunning."
Stylists love to play with my hair. They all encourage me to be freer with it, loosen up a little. For me, though, there seem to be only two states--controlled or out of control. I spent my childhood and teen years hating my hair, unable to find a way to deal with it. It curled just enough to be annoying, not enough to be cute. I wanted "cheerleader hair," long, straight, and blond. I had "nerd hair," short, curly, and brown. I find it hard to let those hard feelings and resentment go.
I often think of my growing up as a time of wanting some undefined "more"--more challenge, more stimulation, more something. I'm beginning to believe that maybe part of getting more is trying less, letting go.
I did surprise her yesterday by saying I've always wanted to put a pink streak in my hair.....
It has only been in recent years that I began to experience that unique relationship between stylist and client. I'm not a naturally effusive or talkative person, so it's not as if I've shared any deep secrets or thoughts. Yet, my ambivalence and insecurity about my hair (my being?) has seemed evident to each of them.
I started getting grey (gray? silver? white?) hair in my late 20's. The idea of coloring my hair for the next 60 years or so was not appealing. I have vivid memories of my mother's home dyes--the smell, the dripping, the weird results. I decided then that I wouldn't start. There are things I like about my hair, and I'm often randomly complimented on its color and appearance. I've been stopped on the street, in stores, and at work by people wanting to comment on my hair. Just two weeks ago, boarding a plane in DC, a woman standing behind me leaned forward to whisper, "Excuse me, but I have to tell you your hair is stunning."
Stylists love to play with my hair. They all encourage me to be freer with it, loosen up a little. For me, though, there seem to be only two states--controlled or out of control. I spent my childhood and teen years hating my hair, unable to find a way to deal with it. It curled just enough to be annoying, not enough to be cute. I wanted "cheerleader hair," long, straight, and blond. I had "nerd hair," short, curly, and brown. I find it hard to let those hard feelings and resentment go.
I often think of my growing up as a time of wanting some undefined "more"--more challenge, more stimulation, more something. I'm beginning to believe that maybe part of getting more is trying less, letting go.
I did surprise her yesterday by saying I've always wanted to put a pink streak in my hair.....
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Lunch
I'm putting a lunch break back into my life. 
In my first job after college everyone in the office took lunch. Some people went home, some went to a fast food place, many ate their bagged lunches and reheated leftovers in the small break room in the basement. On nice days you could sit outside at picnic tables. The owner of the company, Millie, was an advocate of the two martini lunch. I thought it was normal to come back from lunch with her a bit tipsy.
In my second job, lunch hour continued. Every few weeks a group of us would go to a wildly popular Mexican restaurant. We would plan these excursions for days when we could get there at opening to avoid the long lines. On Fridays we went to a bar for burgers and beer. Many days we ate in our break room, talked, and read the newspapers.
In graduate school I often met my husband for lunch. He worked near campus and we would select from the many food trucks lining the streets. Other days I would gather with the faculty eating lunch in the courtyard and listen to their academic gossip.
When did my lunch hour disappear? In my first academic job many of us would eat lunch together in the conference room, similar to my graduate school experience. But gradually, over time, that practice ended. By the time I reached Syracuse, shared lunch hours were rare. Some people went out, some ate in, there were occasional excursions down the hill, impromptu gatherings at the workroom table, but for the most part "lunch hour" was gone.
It has been a long time since I regularly took a lunch break. I would eat at my desk, sometimes trolling the internet, working a crossword, or reading a newspaper, but I still felt like I was at work. It wasn't really because I was so overextended that I didn't have time for lunch, if I took all the time I goofed off the rest of the day I could easily afford 30-50 minutes for lunch.
I'm putting a lunch break back into my life. For the last few weeks I've eaten lunch in my office, but not at my desk. I've brought in a book to read over lunch and really divorce myself from work for 40 minutes or so. In nicer weather I hope to be able to go out for a short walk. I think it has made me more productive, happier, and better able to focus. I think it is worth it.
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