31 Book Reviews for 31 Years

April 23, 2012

I recently celebrated birthday number thirty-one. How to honor that in a book-geekery appropriate way? Thirty-one reviews for thirty-one years, of course. Because…why not?

Here we go, in no particular order. Enjoy!

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Losing My Virginity: How I Survived, Had Fun, and Made a Fortune Doing Business My Way, by Richard Branson
Beyond fascinating. Damn does he work hard. How do I raise my kids to have his mindset?

The Hunger Games trilogy, by Suzanne Collins
Lost sleep, had to keep reading. Quick, addictive reads.

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace…One School at a Time, by Greg Mortenson & David Oliver Relin
Interesting at first. Too long, lost my attention and my belief.

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho
Didn’t think I liked it while reading. Upon reflection, very moved by the personal message. Need to read it again.

Vegabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel, by Rolf Potts
Very much a “guide,” was just generally interesting for someone not planning to literally vegabond.

Dark World: Into the Shadows with the Lead Investigator of The Ghost Adventures Crew, by Zak Bagans
Corny. Didn’t include anything the author doesn’t tweet about or share during his show.

Birth: The Surprising History of How We Are Born, by Tina Cassidy
Disgusted me. Wish I hadn’t read it.

Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy’s Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back, by Todd Burpo
Easy, enjoyable, believable, smile-inducing, moving read.

Night, by Elie Wiesel
Couldn’t wait to be done with it, but considering it’s historical significance, glad I read it.

One Day, by David Nicholls
OMG the ending. Wish it was fluffier, didn’t anticipate it being as deep and serious as it was.

The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun, by Gretchen Rubin
Realistic transformation, a bit too detailed of an account of it, but a good read.

The Book of Awesome, by Neil Pasricha
Laughed out loud repeatedly. Upped my appreciation and gratitude for the daily wonders around me. Recommend it all.the.time.

Life As We Knew It, by Susan Beth Pfeffer
Good character development, creative plot, couldn’t put it down.

The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman
Thought it would be an interesting, light, geeky read. Instead, it was a textbook with overbearing science. Didn’t like it.

Ignore Everybody: And 39 Other Keys to Creativity, by Hugh MacLeod
Ignited my creativity literally while reading it. Had to keep stopping to write ideas down. Huge thumbs up.

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
A bestseller for a reason.

It’s Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life, by Lance Armstrong
No question why he had the success he did; hard work. Decent writing, enjoyable, inspiring read.

Poke the Box, by Seth Godin
Inspiring. Fabulous three-hour read. Recommend it regularly. Think about its message regularly.

Paradise General: Riding the Surge at a Combat Hospital in Iraq, by Dr. Dave Hnida
Well written, fascinating account. Thought it would gross me out. Didn’t. Surprised to like it as much as I did.

Rich Dad Poor Dad: What the Rich Teach Their Kids About Money That the Poor and Middle Class Do Not, by Robert Kiyosaki
Changed my outlook on money working for me, versus me working for money. Changed my life.

Beach Money: Creating Your Dream Life Through Network Marketing, by Jordan Adler
Ugh. Horrendously written. Generic advice. Very stereotypical network marketing. Upsetting.

The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland, by Jim DeFede
Moving, a bit repetitive, but a fascinating account. Made me wonder what other butterfly effects went on that day in different parts of the world.

Emergency: This Book Will Save Your Life, by Neil Strauss
Hilarious. Shocking. Eye-opening. You’ll finish it one notch more liberal than you were when you started and thinking Strauss is a badass.

Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling
Huge lesson: You never know what genre of books you’ll enjoy until you pick one up and try it out. Nothing will ever compare.

American Wife, by Curtis Sittenfeld
Beautifully written, moving novel. Relationship-filled. Fascinating supposed connections to real-life icons.

Little Bee, by Chris Cleave
How come I rarely like books that win big awards? Thought it was weird and disturbing.

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything, by Steven D Levitt & Stephen J Dubner
Fascinating, as intended. But not surprising.

Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, by Christopher McDougall
Astonishing! Changed my outlook completely on the sport and my inclusion in it. Two years later and I still think about this book regularly.

The Shack, by William P Young
Interesting point of view. Keep an open mind and let it sink in. It can’t hurt. Also, moving.

Escape From Cubicle Nation: From Corporate Prisoner to Thriving Entrepreneur, by Pamela Slim
Very detailed, should have read it before I escaped from my cubicle nation. Wasn’t too useful after the fact.

1 Dead in Attic: After Katrina, by Chris Rose
Emotional series of columns from a NOLA journalist. A shocking read, in a I’m-so-glad-I-now-know-this type of way. Couldn’t put it down.

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Phew! That was fun.

What’ve you been reading lately? Any one-liner reviews you’d like to share?

Dreaming about books in one-line summaries,
AS

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On feelings of dread, campus drive-bys, and gratefulness

April 23, 2012

My typical day to day comings and goings don’t take me past the campus of the corporation where I used to work. It’s not too far from our house, but just doesn’t happen to be in a direction that I drive towards for grocery store runs or coffee shop appointments or trips to Babies ‘R Us.

It has been more than two years since I gave up the cubicle life and gained my time freedom, and for a long time after I turned in that badge, on the rare occasions that I would end up driving by the campus, that old, familiar feeling of dread would hit me like a ton of bricks.

That feeling. Ugh.

I gave my two weeks notice in January of 2010, and every day before then, for at least a year or two, I would make that drive to work twice every day; once in the morning and the second time on the way back from lunch in the afternoon.

Every day, two times a day, at some point upon my approach to the campus, my heart would sink. The feeling of dread would rise briefly in my chest, bringing with it a side dish of anxiety, and it would remind me.

Hello Annie, remember me? This is how you feel about working in this place.

As my experience into full-time self employment stretched on into 2010 and 2011, those feelings were just as strong as they were when I was still on the corporate payroll. Fortunately, I only had to endure them once every month, maybe two, when I randomly found myself in the specific corner of town the campus occupied.

I remember several instances when I realized I would be driving by, logically started thinking thoughts of gratefulness and even fondness at the place where I spent the majority of my twenties, but then BAM, there it would be.

Hello Annie, remember how suffocated and unfulfilled you used to feel? Don’t forget. Here’s your reminder.

Half my brain was thinking grateful thoughts to be in the position I was in: self-employed, enjoying my time freedom, financially secure all on my own.

The other half was revolting against the logic and remembering only the way it used to feel: stuck, unhappy, unfullfilled.

Over the past two years, I used these feelings as reminders of how much more unhappy I was in that place than I ever realized. As reminders of how much more grateful I was to be in the position that I was the in than I ever thought I could be. How deep-down that cubicle had affected me.

Yesterday, I unexpectedly drove by the campus.

And I felt…nothing.

Well, I felt grateful. Logically.

Oh hey, there’s campus. Hope all is well with my former team. Glad I am where I am!

But that was it.

It took more than two years to dispel the feelings of unhappiness and dread and suffocation that the physical location of that campus used to stir up in me. More than two years to quiet that piece of my spirit.

So yet again, I find myself grateful. Even more so. For if it took me two years to dispel those feelings, how many more were they really stirring around before I even began to notice them?

How many other people are working there, or anywhere, and aren’t perfectly happy with their situation?

How many others might not even realize they aren’t perfectly happy with their situation?

I hope I can work on finding out.

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What are you grateful for this Monday? Big or small, it all counts!

To freedom,
AS

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Style: For the love of hats

April 21, 2012

My name is Annie, and I love hats.

You probably already know this, but I love them. Love looove them.

I buy far too many hats.
I wear hats at inopportune times like Monday morning business meetings and Friday nights at the bar with my girlfriends. I am not afraid.

See also: I’m weird.

But here’s a little secret you might not know: I wear hats because I don’t like to do my hair.

Gasp! I know.

I have curly, wild hair. When I take the time to straighten it, it’s great. I can wake up in the morning, give it a fluff and a shake with my fingers, and be out the door.

But when I don’t take the time to straighten it, leaving it curly, it…it…it gets a little out of control. The first day I wash it, it looks great. Curly, cute, totally manageable.

The second day, I wake up and it’s a kinked, frizzy, lopsided disaster. Sometimes a bundle of water and a little curling gel takes it a long way. Other times, not so much.

And heaven forbid a weekend takes the hair to day three. It’s not pretty. That’s all I’m going to say.

Enter, hats.

They save me from getting into trouble when I’m procrastinating the whole washing-the-hair thing. They keep my weekends free from spending 30 minutes with the hairdryer and straightening iron. And they allow me to answer with a resounding “Sure!” when Hubz asks on a Saturday morning, “Let’s leave in 5 minutes to get these errands done. Are you ready?”

Hats. They save me worry, in addition to keeping my inner tomboy happy and satisfied. And my inner accessories-lover.

There are running hats.

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That I apparently don’t always wear when running? Hmm.

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There are walking-around-a-petting-zoo-with-my-friend’s-kids hats.

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That can also double as geese-watching hats.

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There are stocking hats with brims.

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And stocking hats without brims.

Photo on 2011-01-11 at 21.43

And then there are the hats documented in my Dailybooth feed.

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4ae762ba4c1b91bcaf58fe06e3530c64_13994828You guys, I had no idea the damage that documenting daily photos on Dailybooth could do to my I-swear-I-don’t-wear-hats-every-day reputation.

4e2d2d55a78b337b92ff8e5b625842b0_10359975It’s…

54ba0552fd9f5421d99322a89c6ae92b_9847783

71d36cf32442aa328c353e928240c6b0_9152979…it’s…

545a39cd9f05f6a4965bb2dd704e7b5a_9564637

803bb8c3a0e2ddb37f4ecba413f8f8c7_5909919…it’s a little outta control.

829691da9cc2e479af68a9604a6f7641_6544827

9969f8acd1bc691a790f249bc5bcbff1_14116331

Wait, does this one count?

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* Borrowed hat alert! *

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Remind me next time to stop making such ridiculous faces in my Dailybooth shots, will you? Why I can’t simply look straight into the camera and smile is beyond me.

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Anyway, hats. Wouldn’t survive without ’em. Couldn’t survive without ’em.

An integral piece of my daily style.

What about you?

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P.S. I haven’t updated Dailybooth in a long time, but if you’d like, you can find my page, here: dailybooth.com/anniesorensen. Perhaps I should jump back into things? If you’re in that space, let me know what you think.

Hugs,
AS

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A 10th letter to my unborn daughter

April 19, 2012

Dear Babygirl,

I walk up the stairs, your new lamp in hand. Into the nursery, I set it on the side table. It looks cute. Nice purchase, I tell myself.

It’s late afternoon, around 5 o’clock. A bad time of day for me and my energy levels.

The rocker looks comfy. Real comfy. I decide to sit down.

I take the throw pillow and place it on the ottoman, lift my feet up with a grunt, cross them at the ankles.

I glance at my toes. They look like ten stuffed sausages glued to two featureless ghost-white cylinders, wiggling aimlessly. Sigh.

My head leans back. Damn this chair is comfortable. You’re going to love it, I think. I also think, I will never be able to get your grandfather out of it.

I smile.

The glider starts to rock, thrown into motion by my imperceptible push. A few moments pass. I feel a doubled sense of movement. My belly is moving while I glide, I think.

I place my hand on my belly. It’s not moving. Hmm.

More gliding, more double movement. Wait. It’s not my belly that’s moving, it’s the contents of my belly that are moving. You are going for a ride, you in your watery little world! Neat.

Woah. The double movement is making me a little woozy. Your Mama and motion sickness have never been friends.

I stop gliding. You immediately react with a swift kick.

Omg. OMG! You liked it.

Glide glide, keep gliding! She likes it! She likes it! Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Ok, about to barf, I must stop. I stop. You kick me again. I stay still. You kick again. I pat my belly near the top, a little to the right, as close to the place you just hit as I can get.

It’s ok, little one. That was fun, but Mama doesn’t want to puke.

You pause. I pause. You eventually shift your weight, my belly morphs into a lopsided shape, and you settle back in.

Ok, Mama, you say. I’ll go back to sleep now.

Our first conversation. It is now over.

Glide, stop, please keep going!, glide glide glide, stop, please keep going!, not now honey, alright.

Our first conversation. I wonder what will be our second.

And I make a mental note to have Daddy start sectioning out a corner of the backyard. You’re gonna need a swing set.

Love,
Mama

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For more in the Dear Babygirl series: Letters to my Unborn Daughter

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Reasons vs Excuses (Or, Why Having No Money and No Time Should Move You Forward Instead of Holding You Back)

April 19, 2012

Your kids.
Your spouse.
Your job.

No money.
Too much money.

Too much debt.
Too much success.
Too much failure.

Your age.
Your friends.
Your lack of friends.

Reasons. Excuses. They can only be one or the other. They can’t be both. How you categorize them is up to you, and is under no one else’s control but your own.

No one else’s control. But. Your. Own.

The kids are the kids, and they’re either your reason for doing something or your excuse for not.

Your job is your job. Will you make it your reason? Or your excuse?

You don’t have any money. Are you going to allow your finances to keep you from taking action, using it as an excuse? Or will it be the very reason you decide to take action today..this minute…this second?

Your situation is your situation, and it’s not going to change unless you decide to change it. In order to decide to change it, you have to decide on how to categorize it.

Your situation is your reason, or it’s your excuse. You pick.

I included this at the end of another post recently, but it warrants being included one more time:

Choose wisely!

You are one of my biggest reasons,
AS

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Rethink Your Energy Drink: updated promo video for Verve

April 18, 2012

I’m proud to be a part of this company:

Great products. Even better marketing.

Makes my job a lot easier.

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What’s Verve? Good question. It got me out of my corporate cubicle for good. Here’s more of the story.

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A 9th letter to my unborn daughter

April 17, 2012

Dear Babygirl,

I was talking to one of your grandmas yesterday and, without really thinking, mentioned how you have blonde hair and blue eyes. I don’t know this, of course, but it just kind of makes sense. Your Daddy and I are both blonde and blue, why wouldn’t you be?

Your grandma politely reminded me that both of your parents (me and Daddy) have one parent (your grandmas and grandpas) with dark hair and dark eyes. We both ended up with the lighter hair and lighter eyes, but those recessive genes, they’re in there somewhere.

What if you popped out with brown eyes and brown hair?
Or green eyes and black hair?
Or purple eyes and pink hair!

Just kidding about that last one.

I think it’s a natural inclination for parents, especially first time parents, to think of the traits of their future children as Either/Or.

Will you have curly hair like your mama or straight hair like your Daddy?
Will you love math like your mama or like to sing like your Daddy?

Either. Or.

What new parents forget – most definitely me and your Daddy – is the opposite of Either/Or: Other.

Will you love to read like Mama, love to watch movies like Daddy, or will you hate both and prefer to listen to music while flipping through a comic book?

Will you have bright, royal blue eyes like Daddy, lighter, silvery blue eyes like Mama, or your own shade of green or brown or hazel?

It’s the Other that I can’t wait for, Babygirl. The unknown. The pieces of your personality and appearance and overall You-ness that aren’t anything like what we expected.

The surprises and the we-would-have-never-in-a-million-years-been-able-to-imagine.

Surprise us, girlfriend. We can’t wait.

And by the way, you are welcome to start surprising us any day now. Aaaaany day.

(How’s tomorrow work for you?)

Love,
Mama

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For more in the Dear Babygirl series: Letters to my Unborn Daughter

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An (almost) 8th letter to my unborn daughter

April 17, 2012

38.5 weeks. I'm crying Uncle.

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For more in the Dear Babygirl series: Letters to my Unborn Daughter

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