How to bring it all together

I've been thinking a lot about my career. I used to believe I'd be a writer or a business owner (or, in a perfect world, both). But, alas, I'm a VP at a loss prevention company solving other peoples problems.

And so it goes.

To combat that, over the years I've tried to find ways to be creative at work, with writing, formatting, creating new methods to solve problems, providing interesting ways to display data, etc. I remember being 21 and talking to my then boyfriend about aesthetically pleasing code. Perhaps I was always more interested in functional approaches to art/design/workflow. It really doesn't matter though, because it turns out that I'm pretty good at my job.

I think I may finally have a few potential ways to work on something that binds what I love to do with what I actually do. Stay tuned.

Sleepless weeks

Shivering, naked and alone,
In the dark of your room.
You let out a cry to be
Rescued and held;
And I accept.

Soft plush comfort
Sharing unfinished thoughts
The warmth of my bed.

You cave in to me
And I always fall in love.

-for Avery.

Vadim's Birthday

Thought-provoking moments, and
dreams shared in between,
scatter the air, hovering motionlessly above.

Having spent long seasons apart-
and too few moments since-
your shadow stands within this cave.

The walls are thick with seasonless days.
Communication becomes my past.
I surrender myself to books written by
better men, and music sung by fathers of all.
Days pass without notice, until the
shadows become people, and the sun calls them down.
And his message realizes its way into me,
into the cave that has kept me safe,
speaking softly about out there.

The seasons push air into the depth of my lungs;
and, I am here again, and you are real.

The raw power of life beats quickly in my chest;
and I know that this friendship is love,
no matter the short years that stare
at pictures in the distance.

Midnight Daydreams

During the winter season

when darkness is long,

the coldest memories

slice thru the stiff air.

Some of us write letters

seeking warmth & death;

others write poems

where icy weather is never sent.

There will be more seasons

to retell how tireless and cold

winter can be.

Here is my bet....

A bar in the East Village, NYC: Sharpies vs. Smarties

There was the time I could not vote, and then there was the time that I could.

Turning eighteen stood as one of the most defining moments of my life. I have many poor memories of me prior to the year 2000 (the first year I could vote). In fact, for some years following, much of my memory is clouded with this hope of finding me—the “hope” being the main focus.

To much of my surprise, I became mindful of how I am part of the whole—my family, peers, the church, the school, America. It happened over a long period of time, and my political and moral ideals changed dramatically throughout it all. To this day, though, it seems that it was just a blink of the eye. One day I was Kimberly Bloomston, all that mattered, and the next day there was this big picture that needed to be accounted for well before I could become a working mechanism of it all. That, fundamentally, became the driving point of change in my life.

I started to think things through more seriously, determine my words more carefully, and make plans with more of an understanding; ultimately, I became part of a group… a group of working Americans, a generation, community, and, most importantly, a living part of this society that (not only expects) but strives for a better future. I effectively became me—the Kimberly that I always hoped to become.

Tonight I watched the third, and last, Presidential debate between Senator John McCain and Senator Barack Obama at a bar in the East Village in NYC. There was a folksy (not so great) musician playing in the bar until 9:00pm. It was loud, dark, and typical. As the televisions tuned into the debate, a crowd of NYers began to pour into the bar. It was quiet, and there was a particular intent to hear the candidates.

As the night moved forward, the crowd began to cheer, clap, yell, and make note of the ridiculous moments of the show. In one fashion as a group of unsatisfied Americans, we became a whole. I haven’t felt this sort of community in years—I was, at most, in awe of the moment, and, at the height, frightened to be a part of a great community.

If anything is clear, we are unhappy—unhappy with the state of the economy, the current social and foreign policies, and the way we are lied to over and over again. We can disagree fundamentally on how to fix these problems, but we can’t disagree that these are real problems.

And they are.

The problems are larger than a debate, a campaign, and an election. The problems spread over America, through the people, and throughout the states. We have become complacent. We have missed the mark so many times that we have lost sight of the mark itself. We need to help one another.

So, it was here in this bar, during this debate, that I realized so many things that need to change in my life, in your life, and in the life we each hope to live. It is vital to our well-being that we become involved in those issues that matter most to our families, friends, and peers. We have become so wrapped up in this partisanship, that we can hardly see our fingers for our hands.

Change is inevitable. Change is necessary. We each learn to adapt to or, at best, embrace change. But it is here, in this moment, that we can decide the change that we are bound to. We must reach into ourselves to find the courage to research the questions that need answers. We must spend our time researching the policies that will change our lives. We must invest ourselves in the hope that change will happen FOR us.

There is no doubt that I believe Barack Obama is the change that will better our economic, social, and foreign policies. I come from a family that went bankrupt with a small business that could not swim amongst big corporations. I come from a family that has benefited from social programs that helped us to recover from economic hardship. I come from a moment that believes women must have the choice—a choice made with the help of their families, friends, and loved ones. I come from a family that has withstood hatred and discrimination against ourselves and stood for the personhood of others. I come from a middle-class family where the children needed Federal Loans and/or worked several jobs to make it through college. We are Americans, and we want our dreams to come true for our children, and our grandchildren.

Back in the bar in NYC, we believed together. There was no question about the facts: one man took notes with a sharpie, bleeding through papers, and another man looked me in the eye and spoke more eloquently than I have ever hoped to speak. I choose the smartie.

I choose Barack Obama—change that I need.

I encourage each of you to make a wise decision on Election Day. You do have a choice, but you must realize that with choice comes responsibility—responsibility to understand the vote that you’re casting, to understand what you are changing, and to understand what you need to have happen in the White House.

I stand with many of my friends and peers of all different races, economic statuses, and political beliefs, and say that if you have questions, want some help with research, and/or help regarding the choice about a particular issue, I am always willing to talk, and know that they will make themselves available as well. Sure, I have my beliefs, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not open to discuss yours or theirs or another’s. I want to encourage a real discussion about real issues. I want to encourage our friends, families, and peers to disagree with another, but to do so with respect and understanding.

It is OK to believe that I am wrong. It is not OK to distort the facts, remain ignorant for the sake of bliss, or vote against the issues that fundamentally affect you, your family, or your loved ones. Consider your place, your needs, and then talk about it. Votes should be informed; free, but certainly informed.

With open arms, I don’t write with a sharpie, but I’ll certainly try to be a smartie. I hope that you understand. I hope that you try. I hope that you vote with pride—the pride that you’ve voted for us.

Grumpy Talk

Trees have changed since the childhood games.
Rings form and the leaves shed and grow anew.
But we continue to sit in unshaded areas with pictures of then,
Desperately putting behind the words that form our memories.

There is an unyielding need to salvage what was never to be;
With separate inner voices that guide our way.
In ever the same fashion, on this humid day,
We speak aloud the things our separate voices always say.

Together we walk this path that could easily dead-end;
Holding a deep trust that together we can find a way.

(This poem was written in my iPhone note pad and not edited... as you can probably tell)