I realize now, after many years of blogging, that writing is just as much about discipline as it is about sitting there and coming up with something you want to write about.

It used to be, nightly, I would crank out something worth sharing (or not worth it, I’ll admit it). Now, it’s monthly, if that. I acknowledge that it’s largely been my fault for not prioritizing my writing. I have been fairly decent with it, but it’s not what it could be.

For instance the only reason why I’m writing this right now is because I’m at home with Bambina. She’s sick and I’ve been dealing with my own cough and cold. It’s tough to watch her get sick - it seems so all-consuming. That plus she doesn’t sleep well at all. So that means I don’t sleep well at all. Now that sucks.

I guess I have to honor that part that is called discipline. Sigh. Good things, though. I have to keep reminding myself of that =)

Char

Arguing with God and Winning 

I went to church today, during my lunch hour, and sat in a pew not too far from the front of the altar. I stared up at the cross, noticed the red draping hanging behind it. Jesus’ eyes stand out better that way, I suppose. I took a deep breath, and what happened next, I can only say was not only unexpected, it was a date. 

“So, what do you make of this?” I asked, staring at the cross. A figure sat next to me as I ended my question. A deep sigh, and I turned to my left, and there sat God. Shape-shifting until he/she met my perception of what God is, the blur settled into the form of a woman who looked like she just baked a million cookies. I even think there was cookie dough under her nails. 

“Girl,” she said, “this is one fucked up incident.” Yes, God cusses. “I mean, I thought everything was cool, we got some peaceful activities, but, man, I can’t even talk.” God wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and a small smear of flour appeared on her/his forehead. 

“No kidding.” I shifted in my seat. I stared up at the ceiling. “Lots of people died. I don’t even know anyone who died, or at least I think I didn’t, and I’m kinda torn up about this whole thing.” I sank into the pew and felt the hard wood not yield to my neck. That hurts. 

“Yah, I know what you mean,” she said as she shifted again. This time, the blur settled into an older man, replete with golf shoes and a cardigan sweater. “I feel bad, but more than bad. Maybe because I am supposed to be infallible, and things like this aren’t supposed to happen.” 

“What do you mean, ‘they’re not supposed to happen’? It just did.” I started to get angry. I pulled my hood over my head and closed my eyes. They started to burn. After staring at a TV showing the tragedy over and over, it felt good to not have to see it. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to fix things, and aren’t you supposed to be almighty this and that?” 

“You’re pissed.” He kicked some sod off his shoes. 

“No doubt. I mean what’s next? Who’s going to have to die?” 

“I don’t know.” A blur again. This time I felt a breeze sweep over me. I peeked under a hood and found God sitting next to me in the pint sized body of a child in a private school uniform. “I have no idea,” said the God-child. “I wish I had answers. These things are as unpredictable to me as they are to you. People have control over their lives, and it’s not me who takes and gives although they always blame me for the good and the bad.” The God-child dangled her feet over the edge of the pew. I tied her shoes into a square knot. “Thanks,” she giggled. 

“If you have no control over the situations in our lives, then what are you good for?” I looked at the God-child hard. She stared back, thinking. She blinked a few times more and then turned to stare at the front of the church. I looked over to where she was staring and watched an older woman kneel. “Is she praying to no one? I mean, if you don’t—“ 

“It’s not that I’m useless,” the God-child said, “it’s just that you don’t have any faith in me.” He smirked. 

“I’ve been here to find faith, and I find out that I wind up leaving disappointed, there are no answers. I suppose that’s how you do that footprints poem thing where you carry me? I am alone when I leave this place.” 

“You are alone?” A blur and before me appeared a priest. 

“Interesting selection.” 

“I only choose what fits the situation.” 

“How about the godly figure that’s in all those paintings? You know, you sitting on a cloud, pointing at something like you’re ordering something at a deli, and long hair and shit like that.” I laugh. 

“Oh, man, where the hell they get that shit,” the priest said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, I’m just whatever.” 

“I guess. So I’ve come to this realization, and you might not like it.” 

“Shoot.” 

“I don’t really need you right now.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You know, how in times like this, you don’t really help all that much. I mean, you are supposed to back us up and all, but you even admit there are no answers. That’s confusing as hell.” I sit back again and stare at the cupola in the distance. I wonder what it would look like if some projectile were to shatter it and land on top of me. 

“Well maybe that’s the point.” The blur wiped out the priest and brought the image of the Deli God pointing at me. 

“What point?” 

“Whatever, chick.” Deli God picked up his robes around him and got up out of the pew. “I’m glad you feel like you don’t need me, I suppose you need to know that’s what God is all about, it’s not about ME, per se. It’s about you, and God is what you make him/her/it to be.” The Deli God morphed into the little girl, the old woman, Golf Pops, the Cookie woman, the priest, and finally came to settle on a new perfect image of me. 

“Ahem.” 

“Oh sorry.” A finger wave, and things came out more…normal.

“Bitch.” 

“Just kidding.” The Doppleganger fixed things and then disappeared. 

I walked out of the church and into the bright sunlight and back to reality. And somewhere God headed out talking to other people and freaking them out, getting them hospitalized for schizophrenia. What a sense of humor that fucker has. 

-vdc

The other day, I came home with the Little Family after an outing. A cat crossed in front of us (a calico chap) who looked quite guilty. Odd. We usually don’t run into cats in our front yard, although they meander through our weedy backyard from time to time. As we approached our front door, we found a scattering of feathers on our front door. And the pigeon that they belonged to snuggled against our front door, looking a bit mangy.

As we walked into the foyer, (we don’t really have a fancy foyer, but I just wanted to say that), the pigeon didn’t move. We’ve all seen sick animals, and that’s how it looked. Not moving despite possible danger. I closed the door behind me, looked out the window and it didn’t even blink.

I was a little troubled…this happened before at my old residence. A seagull with a badly bent wing was running around the street and almost got run over by a car (or two). It was a seagull, and this was a pigeon. There are thousands of these birds, why bother helping them out? Circle of life shit.

I went downstairs again to look at the bird, and the cat is there, standing over the pigeon. I open the door and shoo it away. The pigeon moved, about two feet over, but looked the same. When I went upstairs and looked out again, the cat was watching the doorway. I decided to call Animal Care and Control. Kitty wasn’t going to quit until he had a snack. 

ACC came shortly thereafter and scooped up the pigeon. There were new injuries and more feathers strewn about, but it was now in a box and hopefully it will be better off. Glad I could help it out, but yes, that cat gave me the side eye after ACC drove off. Get another meal elsewhere, homie.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been running Geek Badge class for some colleagues where I work. The Geek Badge class had five segments: Twitter, iMovie, Blogging, Google Maps, and Wikis. Pretty easy stuff, but stuff that I use on the regular with work and personal life. I put together a quick curriculum, asked some peeps if they were into it, and then started away.

I don’t claim to be an expert…I just happen to use these tools, and I thought it’d be nice for me to share this with others because it’s made my life pretty awesome, so why not?

Let me switch things around. Why share the knowledge in the first place? Why not just be the bearer of knowledge?

First off, it would ensure that I would have job security. I could be the expert. No wait, The Expert. I could easily run around and be the person who knows it all. It puts me in a position of status, and it makes me powerful. The lure of this alone would make people quite ready to keep the info to themselves.

I could build a culture of Me at work (at home, at school, etc.), and be the person people had to ask in order to get access to the knowledge. I could make appointments to do the work for people, thereby ensuring that I would have my hand in every pot and control the output of every project. If you’re not one of my faves, forget about it. Teach yourself (and we all know how hard that it will be).

Knowledge Keepers - we all have a few of those people in our spaces, but we also have office cultures that promote this behavior and there are tangible rewards for being someone who knows it all. So the temptation to stay that way is rich.

But there are also the Knowledge Sharers - those who readily share the information with others, create opportunities to learn, and encourage others to take advantage of the information and make it useful for their own uses.

Why is this awesome?

Knowledge sharers help increase the team’s productivity by creating opportunities to personalize the information and make it work for them - here’s how I use it, and this is how it can work for you. Providing others with tools doesn’t lessen your profile. It increases your profile and all of a sudden you become a team player for multiple teams, not just your team of one.

What makes people powerful is not gathering the toys up and hoarding them. What makes people powerful is helping build a culture of sharing and improving the product. Power is not about domination over other people, but it’s the ability to be a change-maker and be valued by teams and individuals alike.

I wish being a knowledge sharer were more valued, but until power is defined differently and the value is placed on productivity rather than exclusivity, sharing is only for the brave and willing.

And honestly, I love the fact that there are people out there taking the tools I’m using and making cool things. Im not threatened, I’m encouraged and inspired. And it just makes me want to share more.

Char

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