A trip across the cafeteria

Every day, I eat lunch by myself.

I work in the corporate building of a hospital so most of the people in the cafeteria are suit and tie types, with a few women in corporate casual and a few people from the bank next door that are allowed to eat in my building.

At the back of the room is a long table that sits about 14 people, and this table belongs exclusively to the directors who hunker over their meals and talk violently about business. Most of them are wearing white button down shirts and ties, their suit coats slung on the back of their chairs. If there are only a few of them, they crowd one end of the table, but no one is allowed to take up the rest of the table, even if the room is full.

In one corner where 3/4 walls meet at an angle, there are two tables that seat 4 people. These tables are always held by one person who shows up early so that the other three are guaranteed spots at the prime real-estate. These tables are near the small TV, but the two groups don’t seem to pay any attention to them. They are corporate cliques, clubs of four that allow no alternative group members, and hardly give notice to anyone else in the room. One table is all men, a couple in ties but they half roll their white dress shirts, prop elbows on their table and lean forward when they are making a particularly good point, gesticulating when necessary. They laugh louder than is necessary.

The other group is made up of three women and one man, who the three women greet with a kind of fondness reserved for office heartthrobs, though he is clearly not one of those. Unless of course, these women’s pool of choices is so limited that he’s the cream of the crop. They all dress smartly, but casual. They lean close to each other, touch hands or arms fondly when talking. This is a tighter, affectionate group. I imagine that someone would have to die before a spot opened up in their group of four.

I sit by myself near a bank of windows that look out into the lobby, still stuck in 1973 Hotel Lodge decor. There’s a massive wall sized fire place made of large grey and brown stones with faux flickering candle sconces on either side. I kid you not.

Sometimes I read, though more often than not I eat my food quietly and quickly and march back downstairs to my basement office and kill time. It’s not that I don’t know anyone, I know the people in my office. It’s just that because of the nature of our job, only one person can be afforded away from their desk at any length of time. We are all relegated to eating alone, and eating in the office is highly discouraged because of the poor air flow. You eat it, we all smell it.

Today I tried something new, though I will never know what possessed me. I walked my tray over to a 6 person table near the tv and sat down. There were no other tables near the tv available and I had a feeling that I’d end up sharing the table with other people soon enough. And I was right.

A woman approached me abruptly and asked if she could join me. She sat beside me quickly, hardly allowing me to wave a hand and say “yes please.” She was kind and talkative, thick around the face and middle but in a solid, honest way. The way she spoke lead me to believe there were others coming, and that I would be infested with new faces soon enough.

They were all older than me, but they were nice enough. We went through introductions and when they learned the nature of my job, I bore the brunt of a lot of complaints I’d normally have forwarded on to the appropriate people…had I actually been working. I enjoyed it anyhow, and made my apologetic remarks and made sure they knew I totally understood their pain, though I was in no position to do anything about it. It was enjoyable and I know several new names belonging to people I would have previously ignored in the hallway, and that is always nice enough.

Though my foray into the wilds of social circles was curious and eventful, I will probably return to my window seat, staring out into the lobby, thinking or reading or people watching. These are some of my favorite things, anyhow.

My daily life lately

My creative time has been sucked apart lately by yard work, house work, and searching for a new job. And being paranoid and worried about the economy. Is anyone else spending a lot of time hand wringing over the state of the world? It’s really starting to get to me these days.

Our yard is incredibly out of shape and last night we started working on it. A good mowing did a lot, but there’s so many pine needles and leaves caught in the rock beds in our front yard I don’t know how we’ll ever get them out. We’re going to be cutting down the pine tree in our front yard soon (It’s planted too close to the house and half dead) so this should be the last year of pine needle heartbreak. I’m going to plant a couple of flowers in the front yard, but not much. We don’t want to spend extra money on them.

We’re getting ready to paint the dining room. We have the primer and the trim paint but we haven’t gotten to it yet. WE’re still taping off and not getting very far. We’ll pony up one of these days.

Finally, I’m searching for a new job that is more challenging and will bring in some more cash. It’s going ok…I’ve got some prospects but at the same time I really like my job I really like working for the hospital. But I just think I could be doing more, doing better.

So not much in the creative side. I’ve gotten all my art pieces up on my etsy shop at www.storyvilledesigns.etsy.com so I encourage you to go check it out if you’re interested

Our own domain! www.rhetoricwizard.com

I have finally purchased a domain for this blog, so update all your bookmarks and blog lists! The old address will still work of course. Both the old and the new address works just fine.

www.rhetoricwizard.com

or

www.rhetoricwizard.wordpress.com

 

Storyville Designs: The Etsy Store

This weekend had me all running around like a crazy person and not getting nearly enough sleep, so I apologize for not making any posts like I promised I would.

Here’s the skinny on Storyville Designs at www.storyvilledesigns.etsy.com I’ve been playing around with creating art for the past couple of months that really evokes my love of myth and dream. I spend a ridiculous amount of time day dreaming about fairy tales. I write modern interpretations, I draw my favorite moments, I write new endings. I’m obsessed, I can’t help it.

So was born Storyville. Within the walls of Storyville is a populace of characters that are constantly escaping treachery, sparring with the elements, escaping the witch’s pot, menacing others or being menaced. I draw them as I imagine them, and then I take an xacto knife and turn the whole thing into a three dimensional creation you can practically step into. I experiment and then just see what happens. No two will ever be alike.

After seeing them pile up in my office, I decided I needed to send them out into the world. So I started up my etsy site and started listening them. I have about 8 total, and I’ll get them all up this week. They all have different themes and moments, and I hope you like them all.

Even if you only stop over to take a look, I’d love your comments. If you’re interested in buying, even better! Many people who do the same type of work list their art much higher than my prices. I’m not a professional artist, I do it for the fun of it. I price mine really so that I can buy more materials.

I’ve also considered writing short stories to go along with some of the art pieces either for my own benefit or to send with the art when I mail them out. We’ll see.

So that is Storyville. I’m considering a line of hand made watercolor cards that follow some classic fairy tale themes. We’ll see. The current one I’m working on is pretty neat.

Sommer  @  www.storyvilledesigns.etsy.com

Storyville Designs: Etsy Shop Now Open!

Today my Etsy Shop is having its GRAND OPENING!!

I’m so excited to finally have this up and running. I have three pieces up right now, and the rest will be up later this evening (I must take time from art to go pay my car registration. Poo.)

I haven’t talked much about Storyville Designs, and I will do a full post about what it is and why I decided to do this. I love these art pieces so much, I really do. I hope you like them too.

Please go check the etsy store out. Storyville Designs: www.storyvilledesigns.etsy.com

I will tell you more about them soon.

Here’s what I have loaded up so far-

Book-Lust: The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood

Today I finished another book, “The Robber Bride” by Margaret Atwood. It was, of course, incredibly well written, but also very hard for me to get through. No that’s not right, it wasn’t hard at all. I read through it like a demon, practically devouring it and wasting whole nights to race the end. It was hard because it was too accurate. The horrors of a certain kind of woman and the women who are pillaged by them. Maybe not just women. The main villainess is a female sociopath, if they were to say that women could be sociopaths which they haven’t. I’ve had enough sociopaths in my life for one life time and so it was hard to stand by and watch these terrible things happen to the better characters.

Though those better characters were also not great because they allowed half the things to happen to them, blindly, though well educated. THat makes me angry too. I find myself set between the heroes and the villains and that makes me uncomfortable too.

But the book is well written, as Margaret Atwood always accomplishes and the store is fun even when it is hard, and the characters are unique but believable. They are totally believable, which as any writer will tell you, is not easy. Not easy at all to always be believable. But somehow Atwood knows just the right facts to include that make the character 3D but not so much useless detail that they become so saturated. 

I recommend this book. I recommend all of Atwood’s books. Honestly, I feel afraid that at some point Atwood is going to die because she is getting old, and I am all too aware that there are not enough authors like her still alive.

Saving the world one bottle at a time.

Happy Earth Day!

Every day is Earth Day at my house these days. It seems to be all we talk about and all our decisions seem to be centered around “how will this effect the earth?” and it’s an incredibly weird and proud thing to do. I love the way it makes me feel. Just trying. Really.

We look at products in the store before we buy them and I find my eyes quickly scanning for a better alternative. I think that’s a major step in the right direction.

We’ve got our recycling bin set up and I called my local recycling line and asked them to send me a decal of the recycling instructions for our area. It’s free and will go nicely on our fridge so that if I’m trying to figure out if something is recyclable, I have a handy list right there. I’m even starting to think about composting, but one thing at a time.

I challenge everyone to find a way to make one change today that you can stick with forever. One change. That’s all, just one. If you can do more than one, better yet! But try it. Just one.

1. Choose cleaning products that are Green friendly, low chemical, recyclable containers. Laundry detergent, bathroom cleaner, shampoo, soap, etc.

2. Set up a recycling bin in your kitchen. If you contact your local recycling pick up center, they will deliver a green recycling bin for free. This is a too easy thing to add to your life. Live in an apartment? Most cities allow for apartment pick up too, depending on the size of teh apartment complex.

3. Find out which local grocery store in your area recycles plastic bags and take yours in periodically.

4. Before going shopping for a specific item, look for the same type of item on Freecycle.org first.

5. Stop using styrofoam cups at work for coffee!!! Bring your own coffee mug to work and wash it.

6. Same goes for plastic and styrofoam cups for drinking water. Not recyclable! Instead get a refillable bottle. Even bottles of water are recyclable, though there is debate on whether or not you should reuse water bottles.

7. Plug your major appliances into power strips and use the button on the power strip to turn them on and off. This will stop the waste of energy and lower your electric bill.

8. Use tote bags to carry your groceries instead of plastic or paper bags!!! I’m actually going to be setting out to make my own…my first sewing project. If you don’t want to make your own, most stores now carry some that you can purchase and many of them are thermal friendly (keep your colds cold etc) or buy them online from etsy.com from people who handmake them.

What are your ideas?

Instability of the self- a writing exercise

I love writing exercises, and who doesn’t? Sometimes it makes all the difference in a writing block to just sit down and write something for fun, with no meaning or necessity, just to fulfill a handful of requirements and see what comes out of it. I used to love being a part of a writing group for this very reason. I miss being part of a writing group. Honestly, I’d give just about anything to have that back again.

But until then I’d like to share a writing exercise I myself have just now completed. It was fun and a bit strange. Not something you could do with publishable writing, but a fun exercise of stepping out of the rule books and trying out the forbidden for a change of pace. This exercise comes from a book I really like called “The 3 A.M. Epiphany” by Brian Kiteley. The exercise is titled “The Unstable Self” and goes like this:

Write a story that alternates between the I and the he or she (or the name of the narrator), making suryou dont’ confuse the reader with the switches. You might also consider other ways of indicating instability -voices (in italics), commands, or out of body perspectives. Why would this be useful or necessary? Imagine a situation where a character is under such stress that he cannot think straight- or perhaps she’s madly in love and doesn’t care if she thinks in statnard issue thoughts.

 

Want to give this a try yourself? Do it! Post your story pieces in the comments or give me a link either in comments or by email to where you’ve posted your story based on this prompt. I would love to see how everyone interprets this difficult exercise.

I am not sure I pulled it off all that well, but the story writing was quite entertaining- something I do not do very often these days. It’s usually non-fiction or bust. So here it is, if you are interested.

________________________________________

            On the corner of 21^st and Fairmoor is a13 floor architectural beast of a building left hulking and under-maintained, once the flagship for a business think-tank, now broken into law offices, accountants, psychatrists, social workers, and call centers, mostly. Considering how mundane the businesses within this building are, the architecture speaks of something grander, older and more refined, maybe even pretty, if architecture was your thing. Which it is not, for me.  There it sits, in all it’s stone and marble glory and here I stand, on it’s opposite corner, paralyzed from the knees down to do anything but stand and stare and wait.

            She’s going to be late. It’s 10:21 and if she doesn’t move a little faster, she’s going to be late. A taxi passes, and then a cobalt blue Ford Taurus with muffler problems. The driver is an anxious blond, probably embarrassed and aware of every riff and bang ejected from her vehicle. Her car problems are obscene, and now belong to us all, unwilling and resentful pedestrians in the wake of her exhaust and noise pollution. I want to pity her, but I don’t. I have a feeling she did this to herself.

Music is my girl

I’m really digging the newish song “Outta My Head” by Ashlee Simpson. The trouble is that I feel the need to preface this statement by saying something nervous like “I don’t really know why…it’s totally out of my character…I hate poppy music…THIS IS REALLY MORE MAINSTREAM THAN I LIKE.” in a creepy desperation to appear more refined and hip. The truth is I really like the song and the video. So I suppose this brings shame upon my house. Sorry Ryan.

At the same time, I’m drawn to older music that once meant a great deal to me. I’ve got Hole and Liz Phair rapping it out over my iPod and I like it. I really, really like it. It’s been a long time since music has been an important part of my life and creative process.

The crime of bad endings

What’s the hardest part of writing essays? The part that plagues sleep, steals quiet moments, causes strands of insanity to appear in daily conversation. Well, I’m here to tell you that the hardest part is writing the bloody endings.

Story endings are hard too, but those at least you can make up. Life usually is not boxed into movie conversations and Ah-ha! moments that give novels and short stories killer endings. Most of the time endings sound contrived, pulled out of one too many Hallmark moments. Or they relate back to the beginning but in an awkward way. Cutesy that turns uncomfortable. Like a 40 year old woman showing up to lunch in a denim mini-skirt and boots. No one wants to look for too long and while she shows no signs of embarrassment, her friends are turning a furious shade of red.

Essay endings are not usually endings of the actual moment or scene they are working with. They are closing statements. They are an insertion of the Now Writer commenting on their Then Experience. A cross of time periods and personalities that is used to judge themselves or others with a wizened, “I’ve learned my lesson” cadence. These are the sort of ending commentaries that can only be written after time and turmoil have passed for the writer, removing them almost entirely from their own narrative. It is worse still if they are at all campy: like a made-for-TV moment that shows everyone turned out all-right in the end after all. Obnoxious. But it’s often the kind of ending I myself have written and stared at with shame and disappointment. “Wrap it up,” a creative non-fiction teacher once said, “it should come full circle to offer some satisfaction to the reader.” But really? Life rarely comes full circle so tidily and it nearly never offers some form of satisfaction to reader or writer.

I like the endings that just end. No user commentary, no feel good moment. They come to a point where the story is over and they accept the ending, dirty and complicated and sometimes unsatisfactory. I like the endings that show that the writer did not learn his lesson and could quite potentially make the same mistake again. It’s an exciting prospect. I like the narratives that end as if the writer just walked out, the final statement in a conversation or the closing of a door. Or a car driving away and its occupants never being heard from again.

The Plain, Unmarked Box Arrived by Lori Jakiela, published 4/13/2008 in The New York Times is an example of just how hard endings can be. Her essay begins with the magic clever opening all essay writers want to harness- “THE night we ordered the sex chair, we’d been drinking. Not a lot, but enough to make a sex chair seem like an investment, like junk bonds or an I.R.A.”

Snappy! Clever! Using words that suck readers in. Give’m sex or violence and you’re suddenly made of solid gold. I love this opener and the rest of the essay follows suit, showing that she’s not just a clever minx with a few good lines stored up. It’s funny for parents, it’s funny for those of us child-free, it’s funny for couples or anyone who likes their sex lighthearted.

Oh lord, but the ending.

I don’t even know what the ending has to do with the rest of the essay. It is sort of like she got up from her laptop to go get some more coffee and someone snuck in and rewrote the ending for her. The voice changes and it offers a clean, wrapped up ending that is only a glossed over version of satisfaction. For lack of more class, I feel a bit blue-balled.

If this essay were a movie, the last paragraph would have been delivered with a quiet, vaguely exhausted voice over by the heroine as the camera withdrew in a sweeping pan from the seemingly normal suburban house. While this might work in a heart warming Hallmark Presents, it bears no resemblance to the snarky, sharp witted writer of the last page and a half. It is what could be characterized as an inactive ending.

Not to pick on Lori (though it pains me not to poke fun of the fact she named her children Locklin and Phelan) because this is not a problem she alone has. It is a widespread disease amongst essayists. Some of my favorite essays have left me banging my head on the last word that might as well have been part of the phrase “happily ever after.”  I’ve canned entire essays of my own because I couldn’t figure out how to end it without sounding like a freshman jackass.

There is no known cure, except maybe born talent, if there is such a thing. If only life came with punch lines. God, if only.