Quid Pro Quo

Day 7

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 3:  Quid Pro Quo

So where was I then? Aw right. I am a girl. No, a boy. No, a man. Yes. I must be a man now for the true events that haven’t taken place yet are of a very important nature and requiring of a great deal of seriousness and a boatload of cash. That’s where you come in. The oodles of bills and coins flowing from your virtual pockets 100 years after this story was written. Not because you have paid £15.30 for a paperback novel by an unknown ‘writer’ who has to find creative ways to stay focused, because you are reading this story for free on your computer or handheld device right now. At least I hope you are still with me.

Hello? Anyone there?

The vaults of currency for this project will simply appear (at least that is how my tale will end), constantly through the airwaves over the years because you have read or heard of this story and feel it’s something you believe in as well. I fancy £2 from every reader would help us achieve the purest, most sustainable version of the model we are seeking for our venture. Of course your response will determine whether this is a straight forward novel, or a choose your own adventure story where the alternative here is that it all goes to pot, and I am seen as an even more crazed lunatic than is thought any other regular day.

I am not looking to get rich. Um. Yes, absolutely not.  I simply want to make an honest wage doing something I believe in. This is from the man being straight-faced now.  No quips. No sexy English accents. (clearing throat and getting all serious) Plain old boy.

Okay. Accents on.

We all want something out of life but we should not expect it. I do fancy a million pounds but of course one needs to play the lotto to win I guess. I would love a new vehicle. Just a mini-van will do although I miss dreaming of Mustangs and Fiero’s. Stick shifts and fitting 24 bottles of beer where you might find an engine in any other car, are certainly more sexier than seats that magically fold into the floor or VHS players that keep the kiddies quiet for 5 minutes at a time. Yes, VHS players. Who knew. It is even easily removable because at some point in time one needed to worry about a VHS machine being stolen from your family car disguised in red, with a spoiler and fancy rims.

All jokes aside, we must do the things we do because we love it. Because it’s right. Because it feels good. If there is reward great, but that cannot be the end goal, the purpose, or the expectation. We all want something and that is okay.

Indeed I will get a great deal in return should this dream be realized because I will be doing something I can be passionate about every day. In the end however, the expectation is that the effect this vision will have will be far-reaching in our communities and my return will be but a small blip of the grand effect felt by others.

The value of this ‘thing’ is in your belief of this vision. Plain and simple.

So there is no Quid pro quo here. No expectation of payment for reading this story – either from me or you. I don’t demand you virtually toss me a pound or two simply because. I do expect that this story and these thoughts will be for some and not others. There is hope of course. Hope that the former outways the latter.

Come on then. Let’s talk about where I have been and what brought me to where we are here and now, for we must first understand where we have been, before truly knowing where we must go.

These events actually did happen already. Honest they did.

Suffocating Creativity

Day 2

Part 1 – Who am I?  But not totally.

Chapter 3:  Suffocating Creativity

It’s exciting being excited about the excitement that writing a story more than 500 words contributes to my spirit. Where the tale will go? How I will get to the conclusion? What adventures will the journey entail and what will I learn about life and myself along the way?

It’s mystical. Magical. It’s so much a part of who I am. That someone I denied to exist for far, far too long and who I continue to ignore at times throughout my ever shortening time on this earth.

I miss creative writing and the peers I used to write with. I do write stories related to my political role from time to time in local community papers. I enjoy sharing space with so many other passionate neighbors throughout the area I live in. So many are selling this great neighborhood on social media and in passing which is an exciting thing to be a part of. Our City is going through a great renaissance so playing any role in that change is empowering.

For someone like me who has lived in this place all of my life, it’s like people are now saying they believe in us too because nobody held any regard for our City up until now. The locals have always seen the beauty in this little big town but when one goes through life hearing others talk smack about your hometown, it kind of defines you as a person as well. We are our towns. They become us. It’s nice that others see our beauty now even if they are a bit tardy.

I’ve been a creative soul as long as I can recall to be honest with myself, so all this seriousness and the drama that often comes with politics and corporate life does eat away at you. I love it all too but there is so much that I wish to see changed.

Having that urge to tell a tale is invigorating and I miss it. I have felt this craving for some time now but I also do enjoy being an advocate. Writing and speaking up in those regards I have found to be more fulfilling in a different way.

I believe a big reason why I have been feeling so lost and unsatisfied with both my jobs as of late is the lack of creativity in my life. Expression. Exploration. Freedom.  Oh how I enjoy drawing with my kids or telling the tales of our lives together as if I were of English decent – well I am two parts English or three if you include my step grandmother.  Those moments are few and far between however.

For one, I am often too exhausted. More so than a man of 44 should be really. I read a story by author Steve Goodier once that talked about skidding in at the end of your life sideways rather than packed up perfect and seemingly unscathed in a perfect, tidy little white box. For me, each day seems like a desperate slide into home plate leaving scars and bruises that take days to recover from. So with a goal of one day skidding in sideways, I feel I must slow down a tad and take my own life by the horns for fear I might fall in backwards unexpectedly before my time.

I love being busy and wanted and needed and important and that my days are full, but I have long tired of sweating the small stuff. I want a different life for me but I also want a different life for everyone. Most importantly, I want a more meaningful future for my girls and their children should they wish to venture into parenting themselves one day – hopefully before I do any final skidding or stumbling myself.

What I should be doing at this stage of my thought process is writing a business plan and in fact I have written one before so I know I can do that. Then there is that desire for creativity in my life. So, I thought why not marry the two needs in an effort to move this rather time-sensitive initiative forward sans some boringly formatted bank proposal, by appealing to the calling inside my spirit that longs to be more free in it’s wonderings.

Why not write this vision as a storyteller? Picturing how it might all unfold to see if I have still sold myself on this concept never mind the many people, the time, and the money it will take to launch such a lofty endeavor?

I will either succeed or fail at gaining your belief, and or your monetary or physical support. That is not what is important. What matters is the journey and what it teaches us about ourselves and the fascinating people we meet along the way.

I often wish I could be more straightforward in my approaches, but I have long since become happy with who I am and how my brain and heart sees the world and my place among those thoughts.

Let us imagine together. Let’s learn. Let’s laugh a lot. Yes even at me. Should all of this lead us forward in the spirit of this dream, all the better. If not, hopefully you at least don’t feel this journey was for not and that you too learned something about others, a missing need, and most of all, yourself.

Let’s first sleep though and draw the curtains on the first day of this written journey shall we. Falling asleep at my desk is one of those odd places I have nodded off before so I do not wish to suffer whiplash before bed this evening. The used mattress I purchased off off a buy and sell website from a chiropractor some six years ago is pain enough each morning never mind other self-prescribed tortures.

Good dreams then.