4:05.

Approaching EOD, and I’m doing a bit of re-branding.  All telecom.  Everything.  Writer in a tech/telecom office.  Starting with certain platforms, then moving into others.  Killing ancillary blogs, for good.  Two, total.  Running after work.  EOD is really a BOD.  Beginning Of Day.  Hearing people around the office laugh, entirely comfortable in their positions and my envy in me echoes.  Writing the word, TELECOM, on wall of my work area.

By Day HUNDRED, I seek to be in complete cruise control, autopilot.  I will be… today’s just been one of unintentional inactivity.  I know, these days take place…. Understand the entirety of the stage, and game.  Thinking of something new, so act.  Act and don’t think, deliberate, at all.  Collect, compose, move.  Telling self on my way just a short while ago, walking around the block, thinking about the day and why I let it get to me.  I share this because I want both of us to understand this.  Have more than perspective, but sense of what’s in front of us.  The stage and all its constituents.

Again thinking of event yesterday, that one speaker.  All his declarations and affirmations, citations of people who write and share their stories, and how no one wants to hear that. How can he be sure.  EOD, beginning another move, another plan for next week… get out of the office, get in front of people… speak Sonic, or don’t speak it at all.  Just meet people… again, say hi.  Re-branding entailing immediacy, evidence of fruition.  And it’s been before noted, but writing EVERYTHING, jotting it somewhere.  I find myself not putting into practice what I promote and profess.  That’s done on this 21st day… actuating what I advocate, on this 21st day of the project whose singular aim is finally framed and aglow.

21

8/23/19.

8:52am.

No appointments today.  On the phone most of the day which I’m in no way excited about.  One close friend moving away to Washington to start new position, at new winery.  New story, new home, Newness.  This new semester, do something different, something NEW with it.  Last night emphasizing what I did on Tuesday night, stressing to be free in writing, be more of a human and less of a student.  My work this semester WILL free me.

Doubting self in this new position, and I don’t know why. Well, I do know why—Things aren’t happening at the rate I’d like.  Not going to hit the street today, or drop in and say hi, leave business cards as I’d rather do. Didn’t shave and honestly I need to conquer my fear or anxiety or dislike of the phone.  Going to call everyone, set appointments.  Do more on media, social and other.

I’m calming down, don’t worry.  And I know writer more about YOU and not ME.  I remember—OH, I wrote ‘I’.  What if I challenge self to eradicate that letter/word/character.  What if I even moderate ‘you’ and just …  Thinking too much.  One, and pretty much the only, thing that one speak said that connected with me and made me move any certain way.  Hearing all these people talk about business and what businesses they’ve supposedly built, has me thinking a certain way about what I’m doing.  Staying in character with more ferocity and consistency.

Doing something new with wine.  But what.  Beyond the goddamn tasting room.  Resource, of some kind.  Every bottle I taste like the Raymond Merlot from last night, soft and consuming, like a love of loves that just speaks to me and the speaking isn’t at all speaking but a profuse singing.  Don’t know what I’m saying.  I’m tired, from the last three days.  Live in my calendar… and there I am using ‘I’ and ‘my’ again.  Switch.  Topic next….

Tonight in class….  No plan.  No backpack.  Just the notebook.  Have a glass of wine after, at home.  Take more notes.  Appeased one aim today, now another with packing light to class.  Then, notes over either a glass of wine or coffee before class.

Alone in barn right now.  Love this quiet.  Now I’m asking self, why did I agree to teach two classes?  ‘Cause that’s me, my “brand”, I guess.  What do I want to talk about tonight?  Not going to think about it.  Sipping sparkling water, and readying to leave.

Too much going through the writer’s head now to write.  Walk away from the keys.  Not from any block, but from the knowledge that I need to live for a minute.  Get in car, drive to a table somewhere to write, then to classroom where I’ll let students know I have the class.  Yes, I just found out.  No more than three minutes ago.  MY qualms with institutional education have not gone anywhere, but I’m relieved that the Room is mine.

20

8/22/19. 

4:47. 

Just now back in office after being at a Small Biz Expo in the city.  Definitely offering ideas and new perspectives to things in the business world and life, but as well what not to do.  I do want to lecture and speak, but I never want to communicate or come across as this one guy, or should I say kid, 26, did.  Talking to the audience with condescending bend and always telling them to say ‘yes’, when he’d ask a question.  I could only question his expertise.  But, one idea of his, or two rather, that I did value was the stress of simplicity and not thinking.  He offered the idea that if someone goes to your site and they think too much, they’ll leave, or they won’t purchase.

Dad was right.  Even the village idiot holds a gem.  Or in today’s tell, 2.

Today stressed creativity and conversation, listening, and singularity.  Nothing I’m at all unfamiliar with, but still the presence makes me take notice, and a different form of notice.  Going into class tonight thinking about my creative, the day and how fast it passed.  How I need to, we all need to, inform and continue to educate our own creative tides.

4:19.  Thinking about class tonight.  What to say.  What do I say?  I don’t know if I have the class or not.  And I’m not getting any kind of an answer from anyone.  Definitely not the Chair.  So… make it my own.  Roll with it, to an extent, as Dad advised.  Have some notes written, and that’s about it. Was told to not compose a syllabus.  Was told to do 1A “stuff”.  The Chair actually wrote that, in an email.  So that’s what I’ll do.  I know exactly what to do.  ME.  Speak me, my ideas, to elevate and empower students.  At lunch while walking back from the restroom to wash hands, SELL ME.  Don’t sell Sonic, anymore.  All the technical shit, I’ll learn it as I learn it. No rush.  I can sell me and that’s what I’ll sell.  And it’s not selling, as I wrote several times before.  But sharing, communicating.  Ideas.  That’s all it is. Ideas.