Want Your Passion Fueled?

September 30, 2008

The most recent issue of Today’s Woman includes an article I wrote covering four books that helped me stay on the path to finding my passion.

Here’s a quick tidbit with a link to the full article. Enjoy!

Books to Fuel Your Passion

by Amy Gesenhues (from the October 2008 issue of Today’s Woman)

As a wife, mom, full-time marketing professional and part-time freelance writer, I’ve spent the last fifteen years buying and reading a A LOT of books to help me fuel my passion for writing. Some I’ve finished. Others were left half-read. And, some completely changed my life.

To help you jump-start your search for the perfect book, I’ve put together a quick list of four books that fit into the “completely changed my life” category:

Read the full article to find out what four books changed my life.


Punch Envy

September 29, 2008

On Sunday’s episode of Mad Men (which I got to watch tonight thanks to the miracle of DVR), Don Draper, the lead character, got to punch someone right in the face. It was a good solid punch at someone who deserved it.

What is it about a good punch that even watching it feels good? Or is that just me?

When the punch happened I felt that familiar burst of adrenaline I always get when watching someone take a swing at someone else. (Being that I don’t hang out in biker bars, I haven’t seen a real fight up close and personal in years. I’m talking about the staged fights that happen on TV by actors who always seem to know what they’re doing.)

There’s something about a punch that seems soooooo cathartic.

I’ve never took a swing at anyone. Ever. I mostly avoid confrontation—or, at best, try to smooth confrontation over into something less confrontational. Not that I’m ever around physical confrontations anyway. Loudly spoken words make me uncomfortable as it is—unless, it’s me yelling at my husband.

But, it’s gotta feel good to be able to concentrate all that aggression into one fell swoop of your fist.

I loved the movie Fight Club…and not just because of Brad in those great sunglasses and funky suits. That pure primal male aggression was appealing to me.

Gender roles for my generation are a lot more balanced than they were for my mom’s generation and women before her. Athletics, career paths, midlife crisis—women have the same choices** men do on many levels now days. But the idea of swinging at someone is still mostly a men’s only club. At least, taking a swing and not being considered a complete out of control lunatic with severe anger issues…is still for men only.

Sure, if a guy takes a punch at someone during a Monday morning conference meeting or in line at Starbucks, then he’ll probably be tagged a little over the edge. But, there are occasions when it’s somewhat socially acceptable for a man to take a swing at another man.

This doesn’t stand true for women. A slap, yes. But a fool force, pull back your elbow and unleash all your madness in one glorified punch is a bit out of range for normal female behavior.

Yes, there are women who fight and hit and punch. I’ve got all the respect in the world (and envy) for Ali’s daughter who has made a career by being able to throw a phenomenal punch.

I’m talking about your everyday mom/wife/working woman. For instance, say a bunch of women go out for a drink after a PTA meeting. Everyone’s enjoying their wine and the conversation starts to loosen up when all of a sudden one woman accuses another woman of flirting with her husband. The conversation gets heated and an accusation about flirting turns into severe name-calling. There will be a lot of dirty looks; maybe some appetizers get tossed across the table; but the likelihood of fisticuffs is slim.

On the other hand, let’s take a group of dads hanging out after a little league game drinking beer. One man off-handedly comments on another man’s wife. Maybe it’s a few comments, all mildly offensive, and wham—you’ve got yourself a punch to the nose.

Not that I really want to punch anyone as of lately. I’m sure it’s one of those things that are better in theory than reality. First, the guilt I’d feel afterward and shame for allowing myself such raw emotional release would be enough to keep me in hiding for days. Second, I can’t image what I would like like trying to throw a punch. I’d imagine I would be clumsy and lopsided and most likely miss my target, just adding to the embarrassment of the whole thing.

**Quick Disclaimer because I have to in good conscience: while women and men are much more equal than previous generations, there is still a gap.  Per the national average, a woman will earn $0.77 for every $1.00 a male earns, there are more male corporate executives than females, and we still have a ways to go politically, but we’re gaining ground.


Word Up!

September 28, 2008

The page that I log into to write these post has a title atop of it that says, “Write Post.” In my mind, I always read, “Write Post or Else.”

I do this often with words.  My husband’s a fan of the restaurant Joe’s OK Bayou, but I’m not.  So whenever he mentions it, I say, “Joe’s OK Bayou, but not by me.” I giggle about this one all the time.

I think some people are words (or letters) people and others are numbers people.  I can’t make heads or tales of numbers.  I still use a calculator to do simple math.  I’m not joking.  When I have to add by hand, I still write out the tiny carry over number atop the next row.  I do my very best to avoid adding in front of people.

Words are much easier for me.  I read them forward and then backward.  If I’m standing in line at the grocery, I’ll often play word jumble with the People and Star magazine cover titles.  You can’t do a whole lot with Kate (take? ate? teak?), but add Suri and Tom and you’ve got, at least 10 minutes of word play.


Thoughts from Inside a Uterus

September 27, 2008

Good God, there’s no room in here. I cannot get comfortable for anything. I kick; I squirm; I flip. Nothing helps.

And, great, it’s cold again. How much ice cream is she going to eat?

She didn’t walk today. She better get all the walking in she can. Soon, she’s not going to be able to walk whenever she wants.

What’s her name anyway? Mom or Amy? I think I mostly hear Amy, but there’s this one little voice that keeps calling her mom and she says it over and over and over again. I kind of like the sound of Mom, seems like it would be easier to say.

Is that R.E.M.? I wish she’d listen to more Talking Heads. I like the And She Was song.

Which way is up in here anyway? I wonder how I’m going to get out. Maybe that guy who is always around will tell me how. He sounds like he knows a lot.

Ouch. I hate when these walls in here get hard. I feel like Luke Skywalker in the trash dump. Thank God they don’t stay that way for too long or for more than 30 or 40 minutes.

Oh wait…she’s reclining. Yep, she’s definitely trying to go to sleep–she keeps switching from side to side. That’s my cue; time to push on her bladder.


Not Sure If I’m Allowed to Do This

September 26, 2008

…but, here it goes anyway. I’ve always been a bigger fan of begging forgiveness rather than asking approval.

Anyway, my second op-ed column got published this past Wednesday in our local newspaper. I thought they would post it online like they did my first one, but it hasn’t showed up yet, so I’m just going to post it here myself. Let’s all hope I don’t get in trouble for copy infringement!

New Albany’s Great Debate – The Smoking Ban

My first cigarette was smoked sometime during my fifteenth year. It was a stolen Merit Menthol Light that I smoked while holding at arms length outside my bedroom window, hoping the smell and the smoke wouldn’t linger in my room.

Between then and July of 2007, I was a sometimes regular smoker (mostly through college), a sometimes social smoker (mostly in bars), and a sometimes stress smoker (mostly after Thanksgiving dinners). I liked Camel Lights, soft pack.

I’ve been fortunate never to step into the realm of chain-smoking, or need a cigarette badly enough and often enough that a carton purchase was more necessary than buying a pack. I do remember the pleasure and artistry of smoking. The million different ways you can hold your cigarette and ash it; the way you can use it to emphasize whatever it is you’re discussing; the way you can light it with a match or, even better, a Zippo; and what’s more gratifying than that first cigarette with a cold beer or a cup of coffee?

It’s been over a year since my last cigarette and I’ll never say never about smoking another one. Just a few Sundays ago, after watching back-to-back episodes of Mad Men, all I could think about was lighting up. I see both sides of the smoking ban-the filter and the butt.

And here’s my but: even as someone who can value the fulfilling-albeit fleeting-effects of the perfect smoke at the perfect time, don’t we want to live in a city that promotes the health of the overall community?

As a mayor, don’t you want to govern a progressive city? A city that leads by example and says that the physical welfare of our whole community is more important than the economic demands of a handful of business owners?

You can pull research and resources that validate both sides of this debate. A simple Google search will return studies to prove and disprove the actual adverse effects of secondhand smoke. There are also studies that show little to no effect on the economic impact on businesses in the cities where smoking bans are enforced.

And then there are the smokers. I can hear the mental chorus now, “What about our freedom? Our right to light up! Keep your legislative hands off my pack of smokes!”

It’s the defiant cry of people who are tired of being led by a government that wants to control their every move (even though they often look to the same government to control their rising health care costs.)

Here’s my but to this argument: haven’t we been duped? Duped into believing that a cigarette should be fought for as one of our basic rights-a product that has been proven over and over to cause slow, horrific deaths, low birth rates, and a constant stream of unaffordable health problems.

The tobacco industry, arguably the most inherently evil corporate organization during the last century, was also the most genius marketing force ever to hit our capitalistic shores. They took one of our basic psychological shortcomings, our nature for oral fixation, and fed it a stick stocked with damaging and crushingly addictive chemicals.

They made it cool from the beginning. Who didn’t want to be (or date) a Marlboro man? And when women took the corner offices, the tobacco industry was the first to let us know how far we had come (although, they still called us babies). They watched quietly as smoking habits were passed from one generation to the next and reinforced their dirty little secrets by promoting cigarettes to the younger generations with candy cigarettes and cartoon advertising.

This is an industry that profited on promoting cigarettes to children when they knew it was beyond harmful to the child’s lifelong health.

And now, the biggest triumph of all: they’ve convinced their involuntarily loyal customers to fight for them, “No matter how it affects me, my children, or the people around me; LET ME SMOKE!”

I don’t want to preach to people and tell them they shouldn’t smoke. I say, “Smoke up all you want.” But, don’t argue that it should be legal to do it in the restaurant where I’m trying to enjoy a meal, or behind the counter of my local convenient store. A smoking ban doesn’t limit your right to smoke; it protects my right to keep your smoke off of my-and my child’s-clothes, hair, and lungs.

The smoking ban appears to be an almost dead issue at the time. The mayor has vetoed it and the committee to review it is slow moving. Maybe it’s just not our time yet. Every city progresses at its own speed. Small steps, right? First we bring it in front of council. We debate it until we’re blue in the face. And eventually, we choose healthy progressive measures to advance our community instead of setting them afire.


Quick List of Unnecessary Target Stuff

September 25, 2008

Target is a great big box of retail therapy.  It should be its own verb.

I don’t want to push unhealthy coping mechanisms–like shopping; but, if you just need a quick pick me after a crappy day at work…or a long day of being 38 weeks pregnant…I recommend a quick trip to Tar-jay.

Amy’s Top 10 Favorite Impulse Target Buys:

  1. Book
  2. OPI nail polish
  3. Yummy smelling candle (
  4. Clearanced  clothes rack items
  5. Shoes
  6. One of those $5 movies that on an end cap by the the home improvement section (great placement marketing…husband shops for energy efficient light bulbs, I buy 9 to 5, Cutting Edge (Toe-Pick).
  7. Magazine
  8. Hair product (usually over-priced, always in a cool genX packaging tube or cylinder or bottle, rarely does what I’m thinking it will)
  9. Yummy smelling lotion/body scrub/face mask (this usually goes right in my bathroom closet and I forget I have it and don’t even get to enjoy it until a month later when I find it while searching for a bandaid because my daughter can’t live without one.)
  10. BABY CLOTHES…although, I really, really, really would like to have a better selection of boys 0-3 month stuff.  They do have these onesies with rock-n-roll themes, but they’re for the older babies, 9 months, 12 months.  0-3 month olds are stuck mostly with frogs, bears, giraffes, trucks, and sporting paraphernalia.

Happy Targetting.


Markie Mark to Take My Mind Off Things

September 24, 2008

Thank Buddha we don’t have any money…because, by the looks of things tonight, we (as in the American taxpayer) are all about to be losing wads. My take: the less you have the less you have to lose, right?

I don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.

Are we dishing out a lot–and by a lot, I mean more than I can grasp on any level of consciousness–of money to save fat cats who already made their millions and millions with a few get rich quick decisions?

Are we about to hit a national financial low too deep for us to understand until we’re living it?

I can barely keep up with our own finances, and like I’ve already mentioned, we don’t have a whole lot of finances to keep up with. But, obviously, when our tried and blue leader busts in on prime-time TV to tell us to hold onto our effing hats, something’s about to hit the fan.

Is the serenity prayer appropriate right now? Is there anything we can do except to do our best living a mindful life? Devote more time to raising our consciousness? Stop being in fear of every single news update out of Washington?

For now, I’m going to enjoy two back-to-back episodes of Entourage that I missed during the big wind storm of 2008. Markie Mark just showed up on the first episode. Sinking into HBO programming may not be the most mindful way to spend my time tonight, but letting Markie Mark take my mind off things for a bit feels better than dread.


Tom Petty Was Right

September 23, 2008

Yes, Mr. Petty, you were abso-fucking-lutely correct: the waiting IS the hardest part.

(sorry about dropping the f-bomb right off the bat, but that’s just where I am right now)

I’m at the stage of my pregnancy where I’m overly anxious to get this so-called show on the road. I want to meet my little boy. I want to see if he looks exactly like his father, and consequently, his sister. I want to stop waddling around in this Jar Jar Binks body.

My OB was not convinced when I tried to get her to change my due date from October 14 to October 4. I’m not letting her hesitancy affect the delivery date I’m trying to manifest. I think the world of her and trust her every other time. BUT I’ve got the conception date on my side…all she’s using are ultra-sound pics. Those things are about as clear as an un-defrosted windshield on an extra foggy morning.

And if I go past October 14; I may be having this baby in a pysche ward somewhere with padded walls.


The Book I Don’t Want to Buy

September 22, 2008

It’s way rare that I come across a book I don’t want to purchase. But never say never, right?

I’m going to be writing something about Through the Storm, Lynn Spears’ latest lucrative endeavor in the literary world. It seems only fair that I actually read it before commenting on it. I’ve tried to find it in our local libraries, but NAFC’s public library doesn’t have it on file yet and Louisville’s library is showing only two copies, both out. Since it just came out (last week?) I doubt it has hit any used book shelves.

Here’s the thing: I’m sure Lynn and her daughters had an understanding, possibly a split with the publishing house. I imagine the following conversation:

Lynn: “Brit sweetie, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, but I’m so happy we’re back to texting. Would you mind if I signed a book deal and had someone write about us?”

Brit: “What kinda book mom?”

Lynn: “Oh, you know, just something to get the cash flow going again. I don’t want you to think you have to support me. It won’t be anything bad. I just thought I’d talk about how crazy it’s been having to live in the spotlight.  You know, and all the lies that are said about me and you and your sister.”

Brit: “Will I have to read it?”

Lynn: “Oh Gosh No, honey,” (said emphatically) “I would never make you read a book.”

Of course, after this conversation, Lynn’s lawyers and Brit’s lawyers got together to hash out what personal details could be included: Brittany losing her virginity? Check. Brittany drinking and drugging at a young age? Check. Momma Spears playing the helpless, what could I do role? Check.

And what couldn’t: Actual transcripts of Mr. and Mrs. Spears’ constant fighting when the girls were adolescents; interviews with Lynn’s psychotherapist.

I know this is all part of the media game and whatever is in that book is probably as convoluted as the tabloid stories. But the big picture for me: do I really want to give money to a mom who is exploiting her daughter…even if her daughter is in on it?

It just seems wrong…but, not as wrong as reviewing the book without reading it. Besides, I’ll buy another book while I’m at Borders by an author I like and respect. Help even out my quandary.


Breakin’ the Law

September 21, 2008

I’m totally stealing Internet access right now. I’m like Sandra Bullock in that movie The Net (yes, I had to IMDB that reference).

Our Insight services are still down, so no world wide web at home. I came to the closest location near my house that I know has wifi, but it’s closed. (What kind of coffee shop closes before 8:00 on a Sunday night?) It’s not Hob Knob—my preferred latte dealer; it’s The Coffee Bean…just a ways down the road from Hob Knob. I’m sitting out on their patio chairs typing away before my laptop battery runs down. They’ve got wifi, but I don’t see any outlets out here.

It’s not choice for me, but it’s working. One bothersome detail. There is an ambulance sitting in the drive-thru of this coffee shop with its engine running at full speed. I’m a bit confused by the whole thing. First, it’s pulled up right next to the drive-thru window as if it’s getting a drink, but it’s not because they’re closed. Why wouldn’t they just park? And then, why run the engine? Do they have to keep certain machines going even if there’s no one being treated inside? Seems like a waste of gas, but whatever. Maybe they’re playing poker in the back.

So it has taken all of five minutes for my laptop battery to go from full to less than half. I miss my sweet sweet Internets. It made things so easy. Checking email. Responding to email. Blogging. Looking up random facts like the name of a Sandra Bullock movie from 1995.

But I’m not complaining, just lamenting (is there a difference? hold on, I’m going to look it up. Lament: a cry of sorrow). Okay, I’m not lamenting either. I know there are people in our community who still don’t have power so I should be so lucky.

I’ve got electricity streaming through my house and stolen wifi access just a couple miles away. I’m living the dream.