Ahem.  You may now refer to this college dropout as “Professor.”

(If you speak at TED University  that’s what they call you.)

(That photo was lifted from Flickr, shot by James Duncan Davidson for TED.)

Maybe sometime next week I’ll upload the script and my faaaaabulous slides, which were conceived and produced by the world’s foremost curator of interestingness, Maria Popova .

(This is the thing I thought would be fun but threatened to turn into “work” until Maria made it fun again.)

It was very challenging to put myself through this experience.  How’d it go? Not a disaster.  That is good enough for me.

I’ve just returned from a reception for the TEDGlobal2010 Fellows. These world-changing individuals are intimidating even to the Fellows who precede them. Every time we meet a new class of Fellows, at least one of the outgoing Fellows or Senior Fellows will say, “I’m glad I didn’t have to compete for a spot in THIS class! I never would have been chosen!”

After engaging in a wonderful conversation with one of them, she asked, “And what do you do?”  I answered, “Nothing.  I am doing nothing at this time.”  She looked incredulous.  “I am on sabbatical,” I explained, “And I’m not doing anything.”

After a lifetime of trying so hard to rack up achievement points, I have become completely comfortable telling ultra-high achievers that my job is “doing no work.”

I am beginning to integrate the notion that it’s OK just to be, without having to do.  I always thought that was a crock, a good excuse for lazy people not to pull their weight in the world.  But somewhere deep inside, I have begun to believe that we are enough, each of us,  just being who we are.

On a recent visit to a museum, I was surprised to find a little video viewing area in a specially ticketed exhibit.  Comfy furniture, throw pillows, and other casual seating created the impression of a TED Simulcast Lounge, and surprise! The venue had been set up to show Edith Witter’s TED Talk on bioluminescence .

She said that fish have three jobs: Find food, find a mate, and avoid being eaten.

I admit it. That pretty much sums up most of my life.

I must look into that “evolution” thing and see if I can figure out how to do it.

I knew it was time for a new photo when one of the TED Fellows said, “I wouldn’t have recognized you from your picture.” And another said, “Oh, I would have. Of course, you’ve gained a lot of weight since then.”

Tim Llewellyn  took that picture, and it’s been my logo for years. Too many years, apparently.

So when Doug Ellis offered photo sessions at the Conversation Among Masters in Albuquerque last month, I signed up.

I thought Doug did a swell job.

Here are the others  from the shoot that have been retouched.

Did I pick the right one for the new profile pic?

There are movies that I’ll watch every time they show up on television:  Blade Runner , That Thing You Do , Enchanted April , Beetlejuice , Caddyshack , the list goes on. I might not watch the whole thing, but I’ll always stop flipping for at least a minute.

My husband’s list includes all the James Bond movies  (even with George Lazenby ), all the Indiana Jones movies , all the Jaws  movies (even Jaws 3  ), and Men In Black .

MIB was on the other day, and we paused long enough for me to hear one of my all-time favorite movie lines (spoken by TEDster  Will Smith ): “Don’t START nothin’, won’t BE nothin’.” 

It has so many levels of meaning beyond the obvious. I use that line with my coaching clients in a variety of circumstances.

If I got tattoos, I’d definitely get those words permanently applied to my skin.  But I am tattooless. Never got the first one. You know, “Don’t START nothin’, won’t BE nothin’.”

Note: Last week I wrote about the number 72‘s significance  to me. Yesterday I thought about the number 77, but didn’t mention that number never fails to conjure the finger-snapping theme song  to my favorite television show from the 1950s: 77 Sunset Strip. Edd “Kookie” Burns  was my first celebrity crush. Today I read that a remake is afoot , so I took that as a sign that I should pay homage.  The number 78 doesn’t remind me of anything.

During my sabbatical I am looking for sources of delight, and I can always count on Maria Popova  to provide a plethora.

I can’t remember how or where I first heard of her.  Maybe it was Twitter , maybe it was through her creation called TEDify in which she does a mashup  of TED Talks.  Then I was wowed by her  BrainPickings.  I fell in digital love with her. 

When she asked the Twitterverse to help her get to TEDGlobal2009,  I became one of her many contributors. I met her IRL  at Oxford.

Those of us who crowdfunded her attendance did her an inadvertent disservice: by going as a fully-paid TEDster, she was automatically disqualified from applying to be a TED Fellow.  That means she will probably be crowdfunding TEDGlobal2010.

Perhaps that was part of the inspiration behind her excellent list of crowdfunding sites.  (The page takes awhile to load. Don’t be frightened by the seemingly unreadable colors. Wait. When it’s done the copy will be black type on white background. )

Why is it worth clicking on that link and waiting?  Maria did all the work of compiling  websites where ordinary people can raise tons of money for their personal projects. If your school, your place of worship, your artistic kid, or you are trying to raise money, this is the best list of resources I’ve seen.

When you take a dip in Maria’s ocean of information, perhaps you will jump in and subscribe to BrainPickings (and I heartily encourage you to join me as a financial supporter). 

The magic of this connection, and the untold hours of joy I’ve experienced through Maria’s work, are modern miracles to me.  When I was a kid, a long distance telephone call was a Major Big Deal.  Today a Bulgarian woman can reach around the world, change her destiny, and affect countless other lives, all with a click.

And now, with a click, I share her with you.

My houseguest asked yesterday, “What is the difference between what you do on your sabbatical and what you do when you are working?  Because last year, when you are working, you are on the computer.  When you are on sabbatical, you are also on the computer.”

That’s easy.  What I’m doing on the computer now is for fun, for my pleasure, for my entertainment or enlightenment.  What I was doing on the computer last year was work.  I was doing for others, and the details were usually not so much fun.  Although my work was/is entirely my choice, I was doing far too many tasks that drained my energy and far too few that energized and excited me.

Now if I choose to play a game of  Hold ‘Em , I do so without feeling any guilt that I “should” be doing something more productive. 

Now when I write I’m doing it for fun, for my own pleasure, to keep an agreement with myself that adds to my feelings of personal integrity. 

Now my email is mostly correspondence I want to have, not material I “have to” process.

When (or as some of you keep saying, “if”) my sabbatical ends, I want my current relationship with my computer to continue.  In this iteration of the relationship, I feel like the boss.  Yes, I know, I’ve always been the boss.  The difference is in my attitude, and the story I’m telling myself.

What other stories need a rewrite?

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Bonus link on the power of the story we tell ourselves:

 TED Fellow  Daniela Candillari  wrote an essay on performance anxiety  in which she describes how she went from a confident, happy performer to a frightened and insecure one, and how she reversed course after a decade of suffering.

Yesterday I wrote that I am resisting the urge to write volumes about my TED experience.

Janet Ginsburg sent a thoughtful comment , which deserves a reply.

First, one of the TED Talks that I predict will be the next talk-heard-’round-the-world is a talk from an audience member at TEDActive in Palm Springs.  A young woman talks about having an expiry date from a brain tumor, and shares her philosophy of living and dying. You will receive this in your mailbox more times than you got Susan Boyle .

Anyway, I want to write in detail about that at some point, and many other TED Talks  which I hope you’ll watch and share with others.

To address Janet’s point: I’m not stifling my urge to create – I’m stifling my urge to make it a JOB.  The author Barbara Jenkins  once told me she has to write. She can’t not write.  I had no idea what she was talking about.  I spent decades writing on command, on demand, for grades or for money.  How many words do you want?  What do you need the piece to accomplish? What are the guidelines? When do you need it?  Who’s going to whack it or fact-check it or pass judgment on it?

See, that’s how I think of writing.  Not the free flow of creative expression, but the written-and-rewritten-and-edited-and-rewritten, within parameters.  Unlike Barbara, who has to write, I get to write, and if I need to write it’s because I’ve promised somebody something on deadline.  I’ve promised myself to post something on this site every day, whether or not I actually write it that day.  Therefore this is not work, but a personal commitment of discipline during sabbatical.

I don’t have to do it – I get to do it.

And I’m grateful for that.

The temptation to “work” today is stronger than at any time since the beginning of my sabbatical.

I resisted most compulsions to tweet and blog TED2010 . My output at TEDGlobal2009 was prodigious by comparison. 

As expected, I connected with some of our grantees, but also as expected, that was a joyful reward, not workwork.

Today I am powerfully pulled toward activity I would call “work,” and this is my declaration to resist.

Here’s what I feel drawn to do: I want to spend hours going over my TED notes and photos.  I want to make more notes, and organize things, and follow up with everyone.  That’s work.

But even more than all the details, I’m bursting with an urge to  spend hours writing, writing, writing about all things TED.

Why not go ahead and do that? Because I know that, for me, such expression is not really “expression.” It’s work. It’s reporting,  and that was my work.

 I am committed to reflecting. 

So if I choose to take out my notes today, it will be for reflection, not for reporting.

I’ll probably end up reporting on my reflections, right?

After the TED Conference, my head is exploding.

I need to sleep for about two days now.