maybe I should eat something

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Ever sit down to write something (completely inspirational) and the second the blank page loads and the cursor blinks at you as if challenging you – daring you – to say something, and suddenly, the only thing you can think of is “hm. maybe I should eat something.”?

I am 36,956 feet in the air, flying somewhere over the border of Nebraska and South Dakota, and I’ve just ordered a cheese plate from a tablet attached to the seat in front of me. A cheese plate and Chex Mix delivered straight to my seat. Oh, and I’m blogging about it. We live in this world of immediacy and convenience and we still have something to complain about.

My question is, is the complaining something to complain about? Maybe complaining is our opportunity to seek improvement. The more we can complain, the more we can innovate and make better. Now, there are some who wish the world would JUST STOP for at least a second, I know, but while it may seem overwhelming, innovation is human.

Take, for example, the guy who invented the little plastic things on the ends of our shoelaces. Who was he before doing that? Just a guy who said “Man, it’s annoying re-lacing my shoes with these stupid fraying ends. We need to make a thing to help prevent fray-age.” Or the guy who invented the hot cup sleeve or those plastic inserts to stop spillage. Those stemmed from somebody complaining. “Oh, this cup is hot.” and “$#!&, I keep spilling!”

Now, the argument is ” do we really need this stuff?” a watch that is a phone, a tablet, iPod, phone, phone watch, ear buds, earphone speakers, and a kindle? No, maybe not always. Maybe a 12 year old doesn’t need every one of those, or a teenager, or a toddler. But imagine how drastically your workscope, workspace, work place has changed since we’ve been introduced to these devices. The designer has a portable office. The writer, too. The service industry is vastly more convenient and accessible now. Especially now that customers are taking longer with each sale to “Pause for text message,” and “pause for instagram photo,” and “wait I have to tweet that,” and “Hold on, I’m checking in on Four Square.”

The marketing world is forced to think outside the box – outside all the boxes. In a world overstimulated, how do you reach your audience? In a world of Fast Forward and Skip This Ad, how can you be heard? Everyone is screaming to be heard, yet no one is listening.

There’s my complaint. So where’s the innovation?

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intro v.3

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I was absolutely sure about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a writer. Then a psychologist. Then an actor. Then a director. Then a stage manager. Then a first assistant director in film. Then a personal assistant. Then a screenwriter. But the most important thing about all of this was, among these definitive and very possible career paths, there lived within me a million other lives I wanted to live. The simple farm girl who takes care of her father’s farm after he passes away, and nobody thinks she can do it. The city-girl-to-farm transplant who can’t cut it in the sticks until a heart-wrenching experience shows her what real work, love, and family actually means. A summer that teaches her about loyalty, love, and accomplishment. The wickedly-smart frou-frou California earth-loving, tree-hugging, hippie-type girl who hikes and climbs trees, composts, doesn’t mind getting dirty, rides her bike everywhere, knows everything about all the environmental wars in the world, and does mushrooms and LSD because: mind expansion.

The white-picket fence lady with a husband and a few children, the Kansas family, the Florida surfer, the Vermont snowboarding chick, the upper class Manhattanite who was Nanny’d since birth, sent to boarding school in Europe, has six houses all around the world, and has a business relationship with the parents whom she never sees.

Even the sweet white girl who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. The girl who is well-mannered, intelligent, studious, but vastly talented and quick, and understands everything she needs to know to survive on the streets and own her life – the kind of girl who does parcour and is a cheerleader, but also valedictorian. The girl who would be picked on until those assholes realized who it was they were really messing with –

I digress. The point I’m making with more than a few words here, is that I realized at some point that the main theme among all those career paths was Storytelling, and living every day with thousands of voices in my head, trying desperately to be heard, the only way I could – and can – find peace is by telling their stories. Each one of those voices belongs to a story, aching to be given life, and they’re rooted deep within my soul, something I only recently discovered. They won’t rest until they’re heard – meaning I won’t rest until I listen.

So, this is where their stories will be heard. This is the page onto which I’ll pour their lifeblood.
This will be raw, I warn you. I may edit or revise a few times, but consider this first draft work. You’ll be uncovering the secrets of these lives along with me. Typos, thoughts non-sequitur, lies and whole-hearted truths included. We’re in for a ride, here, hopefully, and we’re in it together!

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