Wednesday, July 25, 2007

I am. . . .THE MAN!

Insight totally sucks!

I realized the other day as I mentally ran thr0ugh an incident at work the other day that I am The Man. What man? The Man- the cog in the system, any system, that says "No" and denies you what you want. Cops are the Man, Principals are the Man, Dubya is the Man (really it's Cheney but you know) Hillary is the Man.

I don't like it one bit either. I hate being the man. For a system, any system, to be successful, every part must be finely tuned and working to optimum levels. But what if you're the part in the system that no one likes or people dislike because of the job you do- like the spit valve on a trombone, the toilet in a house, the bottom feed in a fish tank. These are important jobs, vital to the success of the system.

Now, I'm not saying all systems are created equal, I'm not trying to argue if having a system is good or bad, all I'm saying is I don't like my part in "the system" that is the library. I can say no, I can deny you access to what you want or need. Of course, I get to make excuses: It says in the policy manual that, the rules say, it's not my job, etc.

But I could also totally subvert the system. I can do things beyond my job description, I can access information and give it to you, I can manipulate the system to get you what you need.

It's what I would normally do in any other situation- There is no such thing as no (Ask my wife about her battle with Usa Fitness- no doesn't always mean no.

I gotta go, more on this later . . .

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Lost in the Forest . . .

Something David said about being in the woods- this is a good one by Neruda

Lost in the Forest . . .
-Pablo Neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Some Good News

(Doesn't the above title sound like the name of a Christian rock band? Except the members aren't Christian at all but they're all named Christian- even the girl who plays the tambourine . . .)

Just got an email from SHINE! (online journal) editor Pamela Griffin notifying me that she liked the flash piece I submitted and that she'd like to publish it in the August edition.

Wow! This is getting fun.

The story is Old Diego- the last story I wrote in David's class. I wanted to try flash fiction and because David is a cool guy I knew he wouldn't slam me for not turning in a full story. I've worked on this story here and there, debating on making it longer, fleshing it out, but I really like it just the way it is.

SHINE!, August, Old Diego.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Swing batta batta swing!

We went to a Silverhawks game last night and I ate 3 hot dogs and had 2 Mountain Dews. I had a great time (we left before the end of the game- the Hawks were losing 3-1) and I'm trying to narrow down why. At first I though it was because it was Dollar Monday and I was all swept up in Dollar madness- but then I realized that a can of pop and a hot dog should really NOT cost a dollar a piece.

I'm not even a baseball fan- I can't watch it on TV, I can't tell you who had what stats in whatever year. But there's something so . . . tranquil? peaceful? watching a game move so slow with spurts of action. Almost like reading a sentence with an exclamation point at the end of it.

As I sat on the bleachers I was overwhelmed by everything really. The people, the grayblue clouds rolling in silently over us, the noise, the heat and the breeze, the falcon gliding over the old Studebaker buildings, the crack of the bat.


I even allowed myself to enjoy those things I would have found annoying and intrusive like the cheesy games between innings (racing vegetables, dancing chickens), I may have even stood up for the Chicken Dance and the YMCA, but I'm not telling.

Something about last night reminded me about church- standing and sitting, collective simultaneous responses as if on cue (a hit! a steal!). Everyone communing under one roof (or sky).

Maybe I've found a new house of worship.