Prometheus's Xanga

Middle School Slam

Fri, 16 May 2008 12:00:11 GMT

Imagine I am middle schoolish

(or if you prefer, you can call it Jr. High)

And I am at a poetry slam

I might be brave enough to risk looking foolish

I might be quiet and quite shy

Perhaps that’s who I am

Or I am popular and this is just fun

Middle school girls in concert scream

As I approach the stage

Or will at least when I am done

As down mom’s cheeks tears also stream

For I am older than my age

So judges please be kind to me and mine

Perhaps what we think deep ain’t so

But we try hard to find that Zen

And on a scale from 1 to 9

Please start from 8 or mo’

And please make mine a 10.

I attended my first poetry slam at my daughter's middle school (she didn't compete - in fact, there wasn't anyone I knew competing). I am impressed by people who put themselves out there. Especially given that the stereotypical poet, particularly in "jr. high school" is shy and quiet and stands far away from the mike until someone moves the mike closer, and she/he backs away again, but has to get an 8 for trying, even though we couldn't hear. Right?

Defiance

Wed, 14 May 2008 12:15:47 GMT

My response to Kween of the Queen's challenge

Who Are You?

Today, my retrospective perspective on who I am (and what I mean by that is that on any given day, my life story could be told differently) is, like my namesake Prometheus, defiant.

I’ve always been a person of relatively low self-esteem, didn’t really like myself, quick to self-criticism, and quick to agree with people that criticized me. Over the years I’ve struggled to recognize my strengths, without thinking it conceited to do so, along with my faults, or another way to say it, "honest with myself" (both ways).

And I am no longer as quick to agree with other people’s assessments. I believe in what I can do. I don’t always believe I will do it (that’s from past experience), but overall, I believe in myself and in who I am. And my goal is to grow.

I believe I can become a better person, happier, more enlightened, more evolved, and that that’s what life is for. It doesn’t have to come quickly. In fact, one could argue that change is almost always inherently slow (depending on your definition of slow - is one lifetime slow?).

So, I am quick to recognize that I am not perfect. I am quick to acknowledge, at least to myself, my part in some dysfunction. But I don’t judge myself for not being perfect. I accept it, and try to learn from it.

And I don’t accept the "judgment" of others. I'll take responsibility but I won't be judged. I’m as right as often as most, and as wrong. I am human. I expect other people to recognize my strengths and weaknesses. I expect people to help me if they feel good hearted enough to do so, and to ask for my help in exchange. I expect people to treat me as if people can change.

(I hear this all the time, that “people don’t change.” It is, in my estimation, an anti-spiritual view that has to affect a person’s policies, so to speak. I think it leads to judgment of others for what they “are” and actions that have the intent of affecting another's behavior without achieving their agreement).

And I expect other people to recognize that I have more insight into who I am, than they can possibly have, that they can’t possibly know more about me than I know myself. I want to hear about you from you (who else can tell me?), but don’t tell me what I think or feel without listening to what I have to say about it.

And so I am defiant, defiant against those who would judge me, and who would expect me to fit the mold of their expectations.

We should all be so defiant. I admire it in others too, even in my children

(mind you, – defiance best defends what one thinks is fair – in my thinking. So one has to keep an open mind to being wrong, and treat people with respect for what they believe. Bottom line, negotiation is always fair. But a sense of entitlement, from your children say, deserves an equally defiant response – for I will not be their slave. But I will not either condemn them merely for defiance).

My Daughter's Band

Tue, 13 May 2008 12:21:05 GMT

My daughter ReyRey, she’s 12 years old, wants to start a band. She’ll be the manager and her friend Sabrina (these names are made up by the way), will be the assistant manager. I don’t know who’s going to play instruments, except in addition to being the manager, ReyRey wants to sing and play keyboards that sound like a guitar. I told her “why don’t you just play keyboards that sound like keyboards and then get someone to play the guitar” – but I guess I’m just an old fogey. She does, however, want my help to think up a name for the band. I ran off a bunch off of the top of my head, I don’t remember what they are, but I could do it again, just by looking around the room. Lampshade, Red Ketchup, Good Coffee, Out of Coffee, Need Coffee, Counter Top, Three Hole Punch, Keys on a ring, Wireless Wifi etc etc. Anything can be a band name.

My personal favorite is And And Fucking And, but I didn’t make that one up (I'll give away my first mini to whoever can tell me who did). I was also in a band once called Tough Chicken. Adam Yaouk of The Beastie Boys played Bass. Think of it, I could have been the fifth Beastie Boy. I’d be RICH. But, things would be different, and I wouldn’t want that because things are exactly like I want them right now. Hell, I don’t mean things are perfect, but the challenge is present. The challenge of life is something I can handle. I like my position on the board. What’s not to like. I’ve got good cards. Enough game analogies. Cause I’m rambling. Though, Enough Game Analogies is a good name for a band, especially an all girl band. Of course if they want guys to like them they might want to call themselves, Life is Football. That’s actually a better name for an all girl band, cause its counter intuitive. They could all wear Football Jerseys. Or not.

I didn't win

Fri, 09 May 2008 12:34:21 GMT

AGAIN!

http://www.andyawards.com/

Too Many Keys

Thu, 01 May 2008 12:02:54 GMT

I have too many keys now. Makes me feel like a maintenance man.

The Saga of The Office

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 12:30:59 GMT

I had decided, finally, that I would rent an office in which to pursue “the business of writing.” It’s a way to buy the opportunity to write. Time has been set aside, but a place I can go to pursue it, without distraction, just wasn’t available in my current environment. I searched Craig’s list for awhile, musing on a few possibilities which were either too far, too expensive, both, or whatever other obstacles stood in my way including my own cowardice to act, and indecision. I was particular, less about price than location, although price is always a consideration.

But I’ll tell you why location is so important. I make a decent rate of pay at my “day job.” I have worked out a reduced schedule to afford the time to write. But there is more work for me there if I want it. So the opportunity cost of lost wages due to extra commuting is a very real factor. If I have to commute 15 minutes out of my way to my “writing office”, the 15 minutes lost because I get to my paying job later, costs me more than the office cost. And conversely if I can work an extra 15 minutes a day because good office is right on the way to bad office, I pay for the difference and more.

So anyway, I finally found a pretty good deal, cheap, the opposite way of bad office, but only a few minutes away from home. It’s exactly what I need; it is a small private space in a clean building, in which I could even see clients if I ever decided to do accounting work there.

I told them I want it. I was excited. Then I got the contract. One of the clauses in the contract required me to buy general liability insurance in order to protect the Landlord from being sued based on something I did (or didn’t) do. "Get your own insurance," I thought. I hate throwing money away at insurance companies (I do it as little as possible and self-insure whenever feasible). This is a tiny space for a low rent, where I will only go a couple of hours a day to sit and write. There will be no employees, no dangerous equipment. I started the ball rolling on getting quotes, because ultimately it comes down to whether the price of the coverage effectively raises the rent too much, but still, if I were to pay higher rent, I’d rather it go to the lessor than an insurance company. That’s just the principal of the thing. A friend of mine in real estate told me this is pretty standard.

I brought this up as a concern, however, along with other comments/questions. I’m always surprised when people change contracts. I work under a contract, and when I first saw it, there were many clauses that didn’t apply to me, or I couldn’t agree too. I knew that the legal department imposed this contract on the people that wanted my services, so I thought they would not give in (“this is our standard contract, blah blah blah). But when I made suggestions, they incorporated them all.

Here too, I spent the weekend thinking I probably won’t get this office after all. I come in this morning and I have an e-mail saying, “I think we can make these changes, most of them anyway. I’ll send you a revised contract today.” So, I haven’t seen it yet, but that is encouraging.

I’m still a little concerned that they don’t keep the room cool enough in the summer, but I have a couple of ideas to alleviate that (also one of my changes was to include under landlord responsibilities the maintenance of the air conditioning system, cause then at least I can complain, or get out of the lease, if it isn’t working).

All of this makes me feel manic. First I’m excited and it makes all the difference, I’m focused at work (working seems worth it again), then suddenly all my dreams are dashed and I’ll never find something this cheap so close to me again and working isn’t worth it anymore cause I can’t get what I want. Now all of a sudden things are looking up.

Ah life. It takes a great strength.

Someone also hit our car on Saturday. But it’s drivable, and they took full responsibility and their insurance company called us the next day (on Sunday no less) and it sounds like they’ll take care of it all. So, like I say, up and down, up and down.

Lunch time is over. Thanks for reading.

I'm Having a Shitty Day

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 15:30:45 GMT

But yesterday I went to see a guy who wants to sublet out some of his “artist” space (he is a graphic designer). He wouldn’t give me a price just yet, but I got the feeling that he wanted more than I wanted to pay. Perhaps the space is more than what I want – for writing, I just want something Spartan. But it has this going for it

That I care about

my own semi-private desk space
bathroom
wi fi
Very nearby my house
key access when I want it.

What I don’t care about

Nice cushy living room area to meet with and present to clients
Pool table
Refrigerator

Here’s a question for all of you psychology buffs (no experts please). If I was writing 2 hours a day would that help or hurt my motivation in my paying job. In other words, would I be happy to work because the pay was getting me something that I wanted? Or would the writing and creativity make more obvious the monotony and meaninglessness of my day job?

See if I did spend some money and time on writing it would be even more important that I produce at my day job, and in the limited time that I allow myself after writing.

The answer has to be the former. I don’t know if it is, but it has to be, otherwise there is no hope.

And will I ever do what I need to do to become a writer? Can I make the leap. Can I do it. Can I, like I talked about in my first blog of today, be a man? (Or will I?)

I have to. But that doesn’t mean I will. I have to, cause otherwise I might as well just die.

My life has a purpose. It has to.

Here’s a potential schedule for me that could be done by a man with direction:

Yoga at 6. To writing office at 7:30. Write for FOUR hours (or 3 ½). Eat lunch before arriving at day gig at Noon. Work straight until 6. That gets me home at 6:30, which isn’t ideal when you have a family, but I didn’t negotiate this reduced schedule so I could be home earlier, I took it so that I could forge a new path for myself.

This is something I have a hard time seeing myself doing, but maybe I should try, just at least so I can fail at it, and then at least I’ll know.

Being Prometheus

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 13:23:10 GMT

"Be a man." The phrase echoes in my mind, like a mantra someone put there (I think it was John). It’s sexist. It means: “be courageous,” “be yourself,” “don’t blame others for what you are”, and such, which is a lesson suitable for men and women alike (and - why not - children too, dogs, trees).

This blog, Prometheus, has been around for a long time. It was once, by that time’s standards, popular. And I still have some readers from those ancient days, a few of whom are still using the same name Bianca Broussard originally elicited from them back in the beginnings, like I am.

For awhile I subscribed to the “write and they shall come” approach, and declared that I would, by virtue of being anonymous, truly be myself. I wrote what came to mind.

Yet, I desired that those who read my fiction know who wrote it. I wished that my wife would know me better. I wanted to extend that to my family, and then my in-laws, and most recently my children.

I don’t think I need to elaborate upon how that can inhibit what you write, nor how important it is that we express ourselves freely. A writer must write truth, not absolute truth, if such a thing exists, but what we truly think or feel at any given moment. This is who we are, or at least, were.

If such a writer doesn’t have the courage to be HERself (still sexist), then, I believe, HE can’t be one. Hang it up, grow old, wait to die, then pass on these words of advice to grandchildren:

“Be a man.”

I know I can be free, through anonymity.

It would be a hard choice to give up Prometheus and start fresh. I’ve even considered a pseudonym for publication – that could totally free me… to hide away.

And there’s the rub. I believe that if you know what is right, you should do that. That’s being a (hu)man. Actually (hu)men don’t usually do that – that’s being yourself. That's knowing yourself.

(on a related topic, why isn’t the plural of human, humen? – btw, spell check didn’t suggest humans, but it did suggest hymen)

Is it the right thing to do, be me no matter who can see? Also, is this not the right philosophy to have for bettering the world (if everyone were to do it).

There are risks.

There are rewards.

There’s the question of whether I can even do it.

Know what you want

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 12:04:23 GMT

I’d like to be happier with myself than other people are with themselves.

I know that’s not a very nice thing to say, and maybe not very evolved or enlightened to be competitive about such a thing, but (despite my recent trip to the French Riviera, about which many of you without THE CREDIT to do such a thing may be jealous) I often look at people and wish I were like them.

I’m not saying what I think has anything to do with reality. I don’t know if they are happy. I’m just looking at how they walk or how they hold themselves and it looks to me like they feel better than me.

So, I’m saying I’d like to be grateful that I am feeling better than them, for a change. I want the opposite for myself, what I think they have (is this getting circular?)

Understand, I don’t want anyone else to feel worse, so that I can “win”. I want them to be the best they can be, and still, myself, be better.

You have to know what you want, don’t you? Or else what happens?

Breaking your routine

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 12:15:37 GMT

I don't really like to break my routine to do things like vacation. You know, exercise, diet, writing - wait did I say I had a writing routine? no, but I want one. When you go on vacation you mess all that up. And then there are certain aspects of my routine I'm not looking forward to returning to, like work.

For our routine interruption we went to the French Riviera. If that makes you hate me right now, maybe it will make you feel a little better that we took three kids with us. We struggled with our french, took budget accommodations outside of anything worth seeing, and had difficulties learning how to get around, so it was a bit frustrating at first, but even when you can't exactly call it "fun", it is still a life broadening experience, that gets you out of your shell, and exposes you to knowledge and culture that you didn't have before, not to mention time with your family, which is always good, even when it isn't. And eventually we did figure out the buses, got places, saw places and ate ice cream. Here are some pictures.

From the sky

April isn't the warmest, but it was 70s the first day we were there so we visited the Mediterranean

Gotta ride a carousel. Cause we don't have those in the US of America.

Fenoccio's 90 flavors of ice cream or something like that. We tried as many as we could.

French playgrounds are sometimes cool.

But more dangerous. Please come down now.

(Our third) Wheel lost his first tooth in France. The tooth Fairy brought him a Euro.

Smile! (Everyone's got a camera)

A foggy day in La Turbie

Look beyond the bush, that's Monaco.

Roman ruins

Just a roamin'

This sign did nothing. Watch where you walk!