Summer, my oasis

I'm surfacing just for this quiet moment, in the space between finishing chores and getting some sleep, to report from the eye of the storm. Here it is, nearly mid-August, and I'm up to my neck in summer... the whirlwind of parties, weddings, film shoots, birthdays, late nights at the computer, concerts, sweaty yoga, and life... in all of its beautiful, sunny glory.

I am a summer baby, a Leo if you believe in astrology, and when the sun shines, so do I. How I love the heat, the green, the grassy smells, the cool lakes, the chirpy nights, the hum of a fan, the flip-flops... even the skeeters are fine by me. I find myself drunk on my love of summer, peachy and positive on days when I should be downright miserable.

I want to keep this brief, as another perfectly comfortable night's sleep is calling me from the other room. But I couldn't bear to be absent for another month without at least attempting to recap all of the blissful moments I've been fortunate to live this past month:

• weekend of entertaining for good friends, cooking and crewing on the production of The Brave and the Kind
• buying a bikini for the first time in my life, and christening it in the great Lake Ontario on the 4th of July at Hamlin Beach
• hot-tubbing and scoring pitchers of Red Bull with Mark and Courtney in Rochester
• catching up with RIT professors at Jack Beck's wedding
• having an impromptu living-room dance party after shooting, one that involved me and Meghan and Holland piled on a wheelchair (and yes, we have it on video)
• taking care of Sarah and Bryan's kitties for much of July while they had urgent family issues (thankfully, her Dad is recovering...)
• watching The Dark Knight with Tom and Zhenelle, and joining them for delicious faux-sloppy joes at their camp in Warrensburg
• watching Lewis Black at the Palace Theatre with the Yosts
• making a website for my nephew, Gavin's first birthday
• spending a week in the 1000 Islands, doing yoga on the grass, cooking for everyone, swimming in the lake, and staying up all hours of the night drinking ice cold beers under the stars (and squashing swarms of mystery bugs) with the Brave and the Kind crew - and Susie, of course! I'm so glad she came!
• getting spoiled on my birthday... presents from Mom and Natalie, and a surprise birthday haircut from the always-amazing friend Trina
• taking a life-altering two-day fling to Montreal with my honey, where we saw Radiohead and figured out our lives
• salsa-dancing the night away at Ben y Tamara's fabulous wedding in Rochester

The Brave and the Kind cast and crew in the Thousand Islands, NY

I am blessed. I am truly, utterly, wholly blessed. Throughout all of these wonderful experiences, and each and every day in between, I've been deepening my yoga practice and practicing the art of presence: breathing, pausing, and acknowledging each moment as it exists. Summer is not quite over, but I feel that I've lived this one as fully as one could, joyfully drinking up each second and allowing it to wash over me, feeling all of it absorb into my well of memory.

Lucky, I am, but ungrateful I am not. I will remember this summer always, and this spirit of gratitude and awareness will not slip away as the summer eventually will.

An Event Apart, Boston - Or, fate finds me

Last Sunday, Johnny took me down to the Albany train station in the early afternoon for my evening commute to downtown Boston. This trip somehow get wedged into my brain back in January, and wouldn't let go. I was browsing online, like I always do, reading about Web standards and code, when I discovered a conference called An Event Apart. Founded by two of the most innovative minds in the Web industry, and dedicated to supporting the Web standards movement, the conference seemed like the place I needed to be. For some reason, I felt cosmically drawn to it. I had to go. I needed to go. I would find a way to go.

Never before in my life has any path seemed paved so clearly. From the moment I decided I needed to go, I found support, encouragement, a means, and a motivation. I even found the money. As I shivered in the over-air-conditioned train car, my shoulders aching from carrying four bags and stomach churning from the over-salted bag of almonds for dinner, I wondered what on earth I was doing. I arrived peacefully and too easily at my modest hotel, and tossed and turned all night with cold sweats. I was alone, with little confidence in my ability to fit in with this elusive group.

But from the moment I walked into the Boston Marriott Copley on Monday morning, everything fell into place and all fears were quelled.

From the kind woman that let me register early when I was the first person at registration, giddy with excitement, to the gregarious Frenchman who wouldn't have me sit by myself at breakfast, I was immediately both welcomed and comfortable. It was a slow unraveling, a realization that this great machine of which I'd been one small cog, was churning and moving about me, and I was not just some outsider, oohing and ahhing through the window, but I was really a part of it - I was understood, and I could understand - and I felt both ecstatic and relieved, like an adopted daughter finally meeting her real Mom and she's perfectly amazing.

I don't mind being sappy here, as I've been living in a Web Design bubble for years now, picking up shreds of knowledge here and there, bumbling around in different directions, always uncertain of what I was doing or where I fit in. The Web Standards community is a smart, quiet, humble group with a passion for creating great work that is motivated by a drive to do things well, to push the industry, and in effect, to change the world. They are the guys in the corner, the ones that aren't so quick to take the credit or make a quick buck, but instead spend every waking moment validating their code, making sure their work is accessible by everyone, from any device.

Everyone that I met was talented and excited; from Kelley, who handed out her own hand-made business cards, to Trace, who asked tons of questions and was a great listener, to Peter from Montreal who didn't get too upset when I spilled most of my cabernet on his white shirt, to Yoann, who said, when I asked him how I could work in France, "Give me your resume," and Matt, who was my all-day conference buddy, and was such a nice guy he managed to get the wait staff at the Monday night party to bring all the vegetarian hors d'œuvres right to my side. All of these people were so real and kind, and I felt home with them, like someone had revealed to me that I was actually an alien, then returned me to my home planet where suddenly everything made sense.

The presentations and speakers, too, were phenomenal. I had been nervous about whether I'd be able to keep up, whether the topics would be over my head. But I was surprised at how much I've brought myself up to speed these past six months; I found every discussion relevant, useful, and inspiring, and I actually followed along with every speaker - even on day two, with five hours of sleep and a presentation about Javascript by the Dutch, heavily-accented, Peter-Paul Koch.

But the real icing on the cake for me came at the very end, when six lucky attendees would be randomly drawn to win a website critique by none other than Jeffrey Zeldman, co-founder of the conference and A List Apart, co-founder of the Web Standards Project, founder of Happy Cog, and pretty much accepted as The Man when it comes to Web Design. I had submitted my proudest design, Shop5, and sat there in nervous anticipation, wondering what on Earth I would say if I actually was called up on stage... And then, before I could wonder any longer, I actually was called, and actually was, quite nervously, walking up to the stage! It's all a bit of a blur, but the highlights were this: despite some discussion about clarifying the site's message and getting the client to trust me, his comments were mostly complimentary - the logo was "punchy" and unique, and the design illustrated an "expertise."

I have to admit, after the word "expertise," I zoned out a little bit. Having shown up to the conference alone, with no idea what I was getting myself into and zero confidence in my capabilities, I left walking on air... having found a community that I naturally belonged to, good people to share that discovery with, and a firm "you're on the right track, kid" from the industry's master. I couldn't have possibly asked for any more.

Every thing about my trip felt strangely perfect, like a well-written book. I've been practicing, as part of yoga, a presence in the moment and a trust in fate - in other words, learning how to go with the flow, let go, breathe, and enjoy life as it happens. I arrived in Boston because of an intuition that I needed to go, and I spent every moment savoring it, and trusting that I needed to be there. Now, back home, I feel like a new person; like suddenly, up ahead down the path I've been walking, I can see a clearing and a burst of bright light. I've found confidence that I've never felt before, certainty about my career that I've never experienced, and a renewed drive to create amazing work.

Thank you, life.

Growing, not dying

A friend told me recently, "A business that isn't growing is dying." This friend just happened to be a Business graduate, and those words have been knocking around in my brain not because I'm interested in business theory, but because I think that statement can also be applied to life, or more specifically, to my life.

If I'm not growing, I'm dying.

I'm not trying to be morbid or overly dramatic; actually, this realization is quite assuring and hopeful to me. In fact, it explains a lot: why I become restless and depressed when my life isn't building towards something, or why I feel hopeless and anxious when I am unclear on a direction to take.

But all of this realizing shines a light on another bigger accomplishment that I am proud enough to write about. I think I have finally squashed my biggest roadblock: myself.

I am my father's daughter, that is for sure. And my Dad, god love 'im, is his own worst enemy. He could talk himself out of taking a shit for fear he'd have to wipe. That may sound harsh, but Dad tends to decide he can't do something before he's even tried. And unfortunately, he carries with him a healthy heaping of guilt. I am just like Dad, and up until this year I've truly been my own obstacle, always down on myself, always full of excuses.

I don't know what happened, really. Maybe I'm getting older, and realized HEY! I'm nearing thirty. Or maybe my husband's constant encouragement finally seeped into my brain. I'm honestly not sure what it was, but somehow I think it's connected to the idea of growing vs. dying.

To look honestly at your own life, realize that you want more, and understand that you are the only person with the power to change that reality is an extraordinary, if simple, revelation. And to actually persist in doing so delivers unending rewards.

Last January, I decided that I was going to make some serious changes in my personal life. It had nothing to do with anyone, but with my relationship with myself. I realized I needed to stop fighting myself, stop blocking myself from success. I needed to be my own friend, to realize my own potential, and to find satisfaction in improving my mental and physical being. Somehow, understanding that was the key to execution; I've been practicing patience, diligence, and presence, and I have poured my heart into yoga, food, and my work, which has become the holy trinity upon which I find meaning. In short, a deep connection to my mind, spirit, and body has been nourished, and I'm feeling stronger as a whole than ever before.

I believe that we all have our own paths that lead us to that feeling. And I also believe those paths will veer, and split, and not always remain unobstructed or easily identifiable. We may all have our own paths to pursue, but the desire to continue striding down each of our own, putting one foot in front of the other, is a universal calling. Growing, evolving, and improving our human condition is the drive of the soul, I believe, and once we stop moving - stop trudging ahead - we die. Either figuratively or literally.

Part of that growth, for me, is the understanding that this is it - this is my life. I can sit back and complain and talk myself out of everything I've ever wanted, or I can suck it up and get to work. So that's what I've been doing. And let me tell you, I haven't felt this clear ever before. And the funny thing is, I have no idea where I'm headed. I just know - without any hesitation - that I'm walking in the right direction.

The Brave and the Kind

I've written recently about my husband's tireless perseverance and passion for filmmaking. Luckily, he's also pretty damn good at it. Not only do I think so, our friends and family think so, but IndiePix Films - an online film distribution company setting the tone for innovative marketing and distribution - thinks so, too. Which is why they've agreed to fully fund and market John's next feature film, The Brave and the Kind.

It's been an exciting couple of months for us... first with the distribution deal for John's first feature, EVERY GOOD THING to RUST. John immediately connected with Jason Tyrell, IndiePix's Film Submission Coordinator, who was eager to extend the company arm into producing. Through Jason, the concept for The Brave and the Kind was born.

To be shot throughout the next 2 1/2 months, The Brave and the Kind is an alternative biopic, with characters that are all based on - and some played by - real people. And not just any people, but us. That is, me, John, and his family. The main character is John Yost, a filmmaker trying to find direction in his life. And while the script runs parallel to our real life, it veers down a completely different path, "wondering" aloud how our lives would be impacted by major life-changing events.

When John first began working on the script with our buddy Randall Meehl, he asked, "So when are we going to make a movie that's not about you?" Yes, it's true... John's senior thesis film, Johnny, was a similar, but more surreal, musical (there was no dialog at all) version The Brave and the Kind, and RUST was based on John and his buddies during an imaginary catastrophic event. But answering Randall's question, John says that this is the last time - he's done "exploring" himself, and is considering adapting a book if there is another film.

So all of this excitement is subdued right now, as we're both distracted by the colossal amount of work before us. The official film website, which will parallel the production of the film in the same way the script parallels our life, through diary entries and behind the scenes videos, launched earlier this week, with an official announcement scheduled after the Memorial Day weekend.


John with actor Ethan Weiss, who will be playing him in the film. A still shot from the first behind the scenes video. Watch the full video here.

While the shooting schedule is finalized and the timeline becomes clear, IndiePix is laboring over finding sponsors and growing the online life of the project. Sitting back and watching it all unfold, I am strangely calm about it all. We both, of course, hope for success. For John, that means the chance to find a broader audience and make another film with an even bigger budget. For me, that means watching my husband do what he loves and get the recognition he deserves. For both of us, it might mean skyrocketing us towards what we've always wanted: to be free from our burdens of debt, free to continue doing what we love on our own terms, free to go where we please.

But, we're keeping level heads about it all. The potential is there, certainly, and we both realize what a tremendous opportunity has been planted at our feet. Now it's just time to take the ball and run with it... no matter what happens, it's an adventure that we can only benefit from. I'll keep you posted...

Wedded Bliss*

"Moderation is key." "Balance is everything."

I've heard these little phrases throughout my life, and almost daily I find new applications to their wisdom. Too many cups of coffee and I'm uptight, anxious, stressed. Not enough and I'm a spacey slug. Too much work equals exhaustion, despondence. And too much play creates a disconnect, a lack of appreciation.

Not that I claim to be a relationship expert, but in my seven-and-counting years with my husband John, balance has been the single most important ingredient to our mutual content.

Interestingly, I think relationships of any kind begin with a certain level of selfishness. We want something outside of ourselves to bring us happiness that we cannot attain alone. Even if we feel solid in our own independence, we know somewhere inside that fulfillment must come from an external source. Eager and vulnerable, we seek love and acceptance from others, all the while trying - with varying success - to give it back. We all have friends, I'm sure, that demonstrate varying levels of selfishness in their relationship approach: on one end, the friend that gives and gives almost to their own detriment, never expecting anything in return; on the other end, the friend that - whether intentionally or not - only seems to surface when a need is to be fulfilled, prefers to talk rather than listen.

In any healthy relationship - and especially marriage - a healthy combination of the two is required. One must recognize when to listen, when to vent. When to be a provider, when to let the other be a rock. When to be present, when to allow space.

Since I've grown into an "adult," left home, and found my way, I have occasionally thought back to my young daydreams about marriage and relationships - seeds of idealism and fantasy surely planted by Seventeen and Teen magazines, not to mention the always-available slew of romantic comedies and sitcoms.

The Media seem to paint marriage, for young girls especially, as the apex of life's successes. With the exception of newer trends in media toward the dysfunction of marriage and the uber-cool single hipster lifestyle, Marriage is portrayed as the beginning and end of everything. It is what a girl yearns for her entire young life, thus justifying exorbitant spending on ceremonial absurdities.

And after the wedding? Few films show the truth about what happens after the confetti's been swept and the honeymoon is over. Anyone married will tell you: absolutely nothing. Yes, despite the supposed magic and lucid fantasies, you and your new spouse are exactly the same people after you enter into marriage, now only bound in a legal and spiritual commitment.

Fortunately for me, I figured this out before I tied the knot. In my vows I wrote, "I love you exactly as you are, right now, standing in front of me." I meant it, and today it's still true. John and I entered into marriage with no expectations other than to continue to be together.

Finding the balance in any relationship obviously takes work... honest, open communication (you've heard that one before, I'm sure!), a willingness to listen and grow, and a sincere, deep passion for each other are what help keep the balance in check.

Expectations are the biggest killer of any solid relationship... when we feel we must do something or that we are supposed to do something, real human desire is ignored and replaced with cold obligation. Squashing expectations has been one of the biggest joys of my married life: no, we don't have to have children - ever, even - if we don't want to. No, we don't have to settle down and buy a house. No, we don't have to buy each other meaningless material things on holidays and birthdays just because we're supposed to.

Instead, we try to live our marriage with soulful spontaneity, following our hearts rather than any prescribed pathways, always trying to see when desire is being swayed by obligation.

The joy that comes from doing what you love rather than what you think you should love radiates, and is contagious. My in-laws live this lifestyle whole-heartedly; they will drop everything to take a spontaneous trip, call in sick, sleep in the back of their van if they have to, and never complain when their own decisions make them a little uncomfortable. Their passion for life and each other is infectious and inspiring.

When one becomes two, it is even more important to approach life with flexibility, open-mindedness, and rigor. Expectations only bring disappointment, and ignoring your heart can spawn inner grief hollowness.

My advice (not that anyone asked) is to live wholly, honestly, and allow relationships room to grow. For John and I, it's worked beautifully; I feel content in my individual self, supported in my ever-evolving marriage, and a peace that can only come from pure, unconditional love.

* Bliss is a delusion. From balance comes peace and happiness.

An extremely uncreative but much-needed update

Spring is finally here... and with the radiant sunshine has come the anticipation of summer, the antsy excitement of life blooming and hope gleaming. Forgive the sap, but I am just sparkling with energy these days.

And in true Yost-Wright fashion (we are indeed an energetic team), the next 5 months are pretty much booked solid with weddings, parties, weekend trips, film shoots and concerts. The whirlwind has already begun...

Last Weekend
We scooted off early Friday afternoon towards Rochester, NY, where my parents live and where my little sister, Natalie, was visiting for the weekend. She'd flown up from Pensacola, FL where she is stationed as an Occupational Therapist for the US Navy. With her she brought her new son and my adorable little nephew, Gavin, as well as her fiancée, Mike to tie up the loose ends for their upcoming September wedding.







I had told her I wasn't able to come... so it was a sweet surprise when we rolled in Friday night. The weekend was fast but fun, with a girls-only shopping trip on Saturday afternoon and a mini-bachelorette party Saturday night at the local bar. My gram, aunts, and cousins all came out and we owned the place... the entire night was spent flinging ourselves around the dancefloor to early 90's dance-pop. We didn't leave town without Greek omelets at the Village House restaurant on Sunday morning...

Mid-Week NYC Romp
And in movie news... John's feature film EVERY GOOD THING to RUST premiered in New York on Wednesday evening as part of the NewFilmmakers series at the Anthology Film Archives. I took a couple personal days and we headed down for a night on the town... Meeting up first at IndiePix, the company currently distributing the film, and then I slipped into my heels for the movie night (note: Manhattan is NOT the best place to break in new heels...).

It was a night of reunions with friends showing up that we hadn't seen in years... after the screening we announced the next feature film, The Brave and the Kind, which is being produced and funded completely by IndiePix, then gathered at the Telephone Bar to reconnect with old pals. What a night! We closed down the bar at 2am, then headed to Brooklyn where we stayed and closed down another bar at 4am, before heading to our friend Katie's apartment for snacks and Wii (well, some of us crashed at that point...)

We didn't leave unscathed however, as we picked up a nice $65 parking ticket... New York never fails to remind us on every return visit why we chose to leave...

Salem, Mass
Friday night after work we packed up the car yet again and printed up our Google directions to Martha and Dougie's place in Salem, Massachusetts. First, though, we stopped briefly en route in Albany for the Albany Center Gallery's yearly Photo Regional, where John's "Stumps" piece was on display. After shooting the shit with some Skidmore professors that happened to be there and downing some red wine, we jumped on the Mass Pike and made it to Salem by 10PM.

We hadn't seen Martha and Doug since they lived out in the middle of nowhere in Maine 2 years ago, but since Martha scored a kick-ass job as the Director of New Media for the Peabody Essex Museum, they've moved back home for another adventure. Star chef Doug took no time moving to the top. After only four months in the area, he starts next week at Grill 23, one of Boston's premiere steakhouses.

The weekend was a blur of rain, wet dogs, red wine, cozy blankets, dancing, candlelight, delicious food, and oodles and oodles of great conversation. Hanging out with those two never fails to be spontaneous and wonderful, and we left today with hugs and promises to not let another two years pass before we do it again.

Next Weekend
The whirlwind continues as friends Dustin and Stacey come to town. We're headed up to Indian Lake for the weekend where we've rented a cabin and plan on canoing, BBQing, bonfire-ing, and more. And knowing Dustin, Keystone Ice is sure to be involved. Ahhh, life is good.

Now
Time to breathe, time to work. Got lots to do to make up for all the fun, and as I like to say: work hard, play hard. Cheers.

An Ode to Hindsight

I may only be 26 years old, but I already can see glimpses of the transforming perspective that comes with age. I've heard many older adults talk about it... the patterns, pathways, and little evolutions that become visible as time goes on.

What I've been tuning into these past few years is intuition. Some may call it "women's intuition." Others just "going with your gut." But whatever you want to call it, there are gentle nudges and tiny beams of revelation that peek out from inside my conscious and make themselves known. I have no idea where it comes from - similar to the creative process that happens when I am designing a website or print layout - something just surfaces and makes sense.

Intuition might also be called a self-conscience. A quiet whisper or a little poke that you're doing the right thing, going the right way... or the opposite. Having the gift of hindsight, I can recognize the moments when I've ignored my intuition, only to find later on that my first instincts were correct.

But it takes time and clarity of thought to listen and learn from intuition. It's like trying to dial in to a fuzzy radio station; sometimes you can't just turn the knob, you have to mess with the antenna, change your position, or move the stereo itself. Early on, intuition can send mixed signals, and making a decision is like stabbing into the dark.

The perfect example of this in my experience happened in late 2004. John and I spent six months after his college graduation living and working at the International Film Workshops in Rockport, Maine. We had a fabulous summer and because our student loans were on deferment, we were able to save a large portion of our earnings. We'd decided when we first took the jobs - which were temporary six-month positions - that afterwards we would take our savings and move to New York to pursue our careers in film.

Our six months was nearing its end in October, and we began looking for jobs and apartments in Brooklyn, where many of our college friends had moved. We spent almost a month digging through Craigslist, sending friends to scout out apartments, until eventually we found something that would work for us and began the application process. After two weeks of emails, faxes, acquiring co-signers, and filling out paperwork, we were denied the apartment! Stunned and angry, now with only a few weeks before our jobs and lease in Maine would end, we didn't know what to do. We felt burned by the city and took it as a sign: we weren't meant to go.

If I was in tune with my intuition then, I might have tried to extend my position and lease in Maine. I might have kept looking for an apartment in the city. I'm not really sure. But what I wouldn't have done is what we did do: within a week of being denied the NYC apartment we decided instead to move to Austin, Texas.

Blinded by our frustration with NYC, we decided to take a completely different and drastic route. We took our savings, arranged a sublet near the University of Texas, and a week later, we packed up our pickup truck and started driving. It wasn't until we arrived that we realized the miscalculations of our hasty decision: despite having a nickname of the "Third Coast" for film production (after LA and NYC), the job market in Austin was scarce. We were told by neighbors almost immediately upon arrival that Austin had the highest ratio in the country of PHD holders working as waitstaff. We also learned that we had mistakenly found an apartment in the most expensive area of the city. Not a smart move.

Five weeks later we were broke, lonely, with zero job prospects and wounded egos. Despite how much we enjoyed Austin, we re-packed the truck and headed back home.

In retrospect, my intuition told me from the beginning that Austin was a gamble. I chose to ignore the feeling of uncertainty in my gut, never admitting its existence until we fully realized our mistake. But while I know that today I'd make a different decision, I don't regret those five weeks for a second. A whirlwind of self-evaluation and soul-searching, our brief stint in Texas was a priceless learning experience. Not to mention the lingering memory of unmatched Tex-Mex!

But being young(er) and choosing to ignore my gut, I was riskier and perhaps, some might say, a little daft. I hadn't quite come to embrace the power of that little twinge of guidance that, at the time, mimicked a concerned parent.

The older and (hopefully) wiser I get, the more I appreciate the voice of insight that comes when needed. Tuning in and considering all perspectives seems to provide a sounder base for decision-making as well as a clarity of consequence. I hope that one day I can look back and connect the dots - wholly confident in my presence and contented by the paths I've chosen, knowing fully that somehow I knew it all along.