Houses of the Broken and Other Stories

Posts tagged “philosophy

When the Levee Breaks

When I grow up, and I mean when I have more control over my own destiny and find myself on the other side of the management desk, I intend to turn things around. Tell your friends what we’re like. Tell our competition what we do. If you don’t like something, say it. Don’t leave it a carefully guarded mystery, festering in a cave of fearful doubt.

The world is slammed with non disclosure agreements and expectations. But I want to disclose. Oh, how I want to disclose.

Too many strings make for a heavy burden when you have to keep nearly every aspect of your daily involvements short, sweet and anonymous. No one wants to get bad press, but the more iron clad the agreement, the more you should keep a wary eye to the big, flashy smiles behind them.

Some people *ahem* are good at telling stories. Some people *ahem* love telling stories and some of the best stories aren’t fiction. Does someone need a champion? Someone to blow the chained cubicles wide open? Someone to ask the other minions if they’ve been treated the same? (I hear some people are good at asking all the wrong questions.)

The best way to keep people happy is to keep your promises. Setbacks are reasonable, if not expected. Deception, well, don’t expect that to succeed for long. Ignoring problems also doesn’t tend to make them go away, unless your goal is to alienate and irritate people in to leaving. And those people, aren’t going to recommend you later down the line, even if they are subject to a gag order.

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Coming in to the light.

My first book signing has been confirmed! September 14th, I will be having a signing at the Erie Book Store. I am both excited and anxious.

Up to now I’ve kept my identity… obscured… in my publications. There are a variety of reasons, but most of them come back to my day job and the potential clash of realities.

There is the question of who I want to be. Who am I? This part of me? It’s not the part that sits pushing technical documents around 8 hours a day. It’s not the part of me that’s expected to be responsible, reasonable and a good example at all times. It’s my artistic side. The side that gets to flex her mind, think outside the box and stir up mischief. The side that gets paid for pushing people into woodchippers. <spoilers>

How do I bring what’s inside, out?

“I am me.” That’s a phrase I often used in adolescences to give myself solace that being different might not be such a bad thing. But the truth is that on the surface, I’m not so different; just your ordinary, average office worker. Nothing to see here. But that’s not who I want to be, that’s who I’m expected to be.

So what’s a girl to do when the facets of her identity are at odds with each other? How do I show who I am and not the facade I’m expected to maintain on a daily basis?

If anyone has some suggestions, I’m all ears…


Lessons to Myself

In retrospect, I’ve always been a writer. I say ‘retrospect’ because even now, sometimes I have hard time actually calling myself a writer. I surely didn’t believe it back then.

Rarely did I have an audience, or any desire to pass on my musings to anyone other than my  closest friends. A long span of time was spent post-college working on semi-academic pursuits. Essays responding to the experience and situations of my chosen profession. True, but often jaded snippets of my professional life and getting my legs in the world of the drone worker.

I hope I can find them.

Time has passed and these sentiments have been in the dusty file cabinet in the back of my mind for a long time. Being young and idealistic is sometimes a horrible fate, but that’s when you have the most energy to swim upstream.

Still, I used those opportunities as a tool and/or excuse to keep myself writing. Did anyone care? Not really. But it gave me a good reason to sit there and pound away at my keyboard without drawing too many questions.

In the wee hours, my work was different. The occasional short story. A start to a novel here and there that never made it past page 5. And poetry. Lots and lots of poetry.

Lots.

Journaling was also a good outlet for working through my thoughts, and sometimes I do revisit those entries. More snapshots of my life. In a mere few words I shoot back in time and remember the exact smell and feel of the situation. I rarely journaled about happy things though, so tripping down memory lane can be bittersweet if not bemusing.

But it all adds to the tapestry of thought and experience that is ‘me’. And sometimes finding a phrase, or a quote, that was inspirational 10 years ago can jog a feeling or a whole new idea that can be applied to things today.

Each page is a seed from which a larger idea can grow. They keep me thinking, pushing, tracing my evolution and future aspirations. Maybe I should really call them “Lessons to Myself.” Conclusions I made so many years ago still ring true today.

“Don’t forget yourself,” being one of my favorites. But every so often, I do. And every so often I’m there to remind myself.


When the darkness doesn’t lift.

This is going to be a short one today, because life has a way of popping up at the most inconvenient times. Personal tragedy of some close friends, and a sun that refuses to shine has me stuck in the philosophical rut of “What’s it all about?”

Why do we do the things we do? The writing, for me, is an outlet. The things that collect in my head in the wee hours and the in between times. I like to share it, if I think it’s something someone else can relate to, or enjoy. And yes, it’s nice to show other people what you’ve made. But money and fame has never been an illusion of mine.

The bottom line is, I do  it for me, not them. If you could see my archives, you’d understand. I’ve been writing in a silent collection for years, with no intention of things ever seeing the light of day. But they’re there, for me, as a snapshot of my past, my experiences, and the occasional crazy dream I was able to capture before it slipped away in the morning light.

Maybe it’s a phase that will fall by the wayside when something more “Important” happens in my life, but I don’t think so. It’s how I balance, how I maintain, and how I help myself understand the world around me. A friend recently said to me “What is life, but a series of passing phases?” The point being, indulge the creative urges. Explore yourself, the world around you.

I’ve always been the type that would rather know, than ask “What if?”