"If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud."
Once upon a time I worked in a cubicle. Then I got an office which basically meant my cubicle had a ceiling and a door that was expected to stay open at all times as the company had an open door policy (in name and literal laminate door only). I went to work. I worked. I came home from work. Lather, rinse, repeat for seven years. My business card touted my title, had my name on it, a logo. I was me but notme all at the very same time. I became good at Excel spreadsheets.
Once upon a time a little after that I used a label maker to print out my very favorite poem and I pasted it across the bottom of my computer just so. What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun, or does it get printed out on a P-Touch and stuck to the side of a company-owned pc, years later its edges slightly brown with whatever suck floats there in recycled office air?
Once upon a time that now seems as if it happened in a galaxy far, far away I started this blog, notme writing that poem that is notmine, blogging to reclaim what was. I started there with a dream deferred hoping that if I just opened my mouth something authentic would come out. Because along with the poem by Langston Hughes, that quote by Emile Zola is my favorite and I think of it often, a mantra for me to write. Of course Zola ultimately died of carbon monoxide poisoning caused by a stopped up chimney, his own ceiling, his own exhale. Some believe it was intentional, a political move, that he was murdered, J'accuse and all that, though it could never be proven.
Oh, I am not saying I am worthy of a chimney plugged. I am not pushing the political liberalization of France or anything heady like that; I'm not pushing anything really. But that ceiling I was talking about? It sure felt low at the time.
For Zola, his "fiery protest was simply the cry of his very soul," and I know just what he means. Without the politics,of course, the enlightenment, without justice or the threat of death, without accents à grave even, my own protest lukewarm, a simple hey you of my very soul. Which is why I began to blog.
It is fitting then, and oh so very exciting, that now, almost two years and two weeks to the day that I started this blog from that cubicle with the acoutistical tiled ceiling, I have been invited to speak on a panel called Blog Out Loud. Created by Megan Arquette and Rebecca Orlov, Blog Out Loud is a networking resource for creative people, its sole purpose to help people with their own blogs to enhance their business, create an online presence, or simply to connect to community. Along with some fantastic other bloggers, I have been asked to sit on the panel for their second event which takes place Sunday, August 23rd from 5 to 7pm at Bell Jar in San Francisco. Repondez, s'il vous plait here. If you live in the Bay Area, please do come by. I would love to see you, meet you, hear your questions even if I have to make up the answers. (I'm good like that. E=MC2 the energy of me times the speed of light, yes, I am pretty sure of it. See? I have something to say even if I am not always right.) And if that doesn't get you, I hear there are going to be some bitchin' goodie bags.
Hope to see you there, and thank you, as always, for listening.