Do You Have a Card?

I went to a networking event tonight for government communicators at a nice restaurant in Downtown DC and was the only one there without an official business card. At my job, if you don't interact with the public, then you don't get a company business card. I find this very unfortunate. My communications functions are internal, relegated to my fellow employees only (e.g., newsletter, emails, intranet content management, etc.). My customers at work know who I am, and if they don't, a simple Outlook search will yield my names and title. But there's something about a business card. It helps to build your brand. It helps promote your organization. It serves as a verifier of your knowledge, skills, and abilities to your peers. This last part, serving as a verifier, is what I feel is most important. Tonight I had to pass out my personal card. Nothing is wrong with it, in fact, a senior communications official commented that it was cute. But I don't want a cute card. I want card from my organization so that I have proof that I work where I say I work. A card that joins a professional rolodex. But those are the rules. I only communicate internally. No card with embossed with the company seal for me. I find this very unfortunate.

National Association of Government Communicators - 2014 Communication School

I attended the NAGC's 2014 Communications School and was thoroughly pleased with all I learned. It was just what I needed to re-energize my professional pursuits. My responsibilities during the day at my job and my new responsibilities as a mommy have left my head spinning in terms of how to get back on track with my professional development. I never want to get so comfortable in one situation that I fail to take notice of the advancements occurring in my communications field, and of course, new opportunities to grow and learn.

I'm responsible for creating and implementing communication plans. It can be very challenging because each plan is different and requires different strategies, or at least a different way to communicate to the project managers. Listening to the best practices of some of the country's top communicators gave me insight into some new strategies I can use back at the office.

Things I've Been Wondering About

I have a lot of random thoughts throughout my day, as do most folks I suppose. Sometimes I use Google to find the answers or to at least see if there are others who are wondering the same thing.

Here's a few of my musings as of late:

1. Why do people place their bags on the seat next to them when riding public transit? Are they hoping no one sits next to them? How dare they hog a seat they haven't paid for.

2. Why don't people invest in a good pair of headphones, ones that actually go into the ear, so that I'm not forced to hear their music, and if I know the song, follow the lyrics?

3. In reproduction, 1+1=3, why doesn't it make sense when talking about math?

4. Why does half and half never seem to spoil?

5. When did everyone start jogging? Were they jogging in the 60s like they do now?

6. Why don't we need to receive a parenting certification before having children?

7. Why does $5 get me a bag full of filling greasy food from a fast food place, but that $5 won't cover the cost of a salad at the same place?

8. Why does every job I get contain the same set of personalities as my previous job? It's the same script but with a different cast. Is this bizarro world, how can my former coworkers morph into new people and place themselves at my new place of employment?

9. Now this one is controversial: if you claim to be an animal lover, how can you pay thousands of dollars for a special breed animal when a perfectly good mixed breed languishes in an animal shelter and is available for less than $75.

Becoming a mom...part II

I had a boy!! So I'm 12 weeks into mommyhood and I'm getting more sleep and am becoming more used to my back to work routine of:

Getting up super early to breastfeed,

Taking my son to daycare,

Hurrying to work,

Pumping in the lactation room aka the 'milking room'; work; pump; work; pump...

Rushing to daycare to pick up my little guy who've I missed terribly,

Making dinner, spending time with my hubby, doing what I can before my 10:30 bedtime...

Sleeping for just a little while,

Being awakened by cries,

Nursing while nodding off and fending off the pain of exhaustion,

Looking over at hubby who's fast asleep, unable to control my jealousy,

Nodding back to sleep for what seems like 30 minutes to an hour

Awakened by cries

Getting up super early to breastfeed (repeat steps above)

Becoming a mom and other stuff

I'll be giving birth in 5 weeks and I'm incredibly  nervous about it. My life has changed so much over the past year I haven't had a chance to catch my breath. And now this. This is my first time admitting it on social media. I'm pregnant. I'm having a little boy. He'll be here next month. I hope I'll be a good mom. I know so little about it. I've been told that it'll come naturally. We'll see. I have a lot to give. But have never had to give it in this capacity.

I got married earlier this year, and while I'm still trying to understand what this marriage thing is all about. So much for my editor and writer musings I suppose. I've been so consumed with everything else. But one good thing is that my little brain is constantly observing the interesting things of my world.

I live mere minutes from the decision makers who are battling over who will win the government shutdown (yes, one side will "win" and the other will "lose"); the scene of the Navy Yard shootings that made headlines about two weeks ago; the woman who drove from Connecticut to DC and due to her bizarre actions lost her life; and most recently the poor man who set himself on fire on the National Mall and later succumbed to his injuries. This past month has been very emotionally trying in this area.

I feel very fortunate that, despite all the anxiety I've been feeling, I'm in a good place and I have a lot to look forward to. With so much going on in the world, I'm just happy to have my sanity (though it wanes a bit) to guide me through. I'm happy to have love. I'm happy to have a job where I feel somewhat needed. And I'm happy that I can look back on some rough times I've had the past few years and am now embarking on a journey I never imagined.

I'll be back with updates.

Back from the dead

So I visited this blog of mine and wasn't shocked to discover that my last post was almost a year ago. I know I've been ignoring my little musings headquarters. And the longer I went, the more bad I felt about the absence and the more overwhelmed I felt to make up for it. But I can't make up for it.

I can only pick up my virtual pen and start up again.

I've had plenty of musings this past year, most of which I've shared via email with friends or kept to myself, or jotted down in my various journals strewn from room to room.

Time just got away from me, and my creativity became imprisoned by life's other pressing issues and my unwillingness to wage a courageous battle against the many gremlins that kept me from my craft.

And somehow in the middle of all that, I met a great guy and got married! I'm still a little surprised by that one. (And if you care to go back and read about my stagnant love life, you'll see why....boy did I have a tough time.) But yep, I have a husband now and have been busy adjusting to the new role. I should cut myself some slack as I've only been wed about 4 months now. So far I would say marriage is a lot like I imagine "shacking up" to be. Except there's legal documents binding us together. His name is Dimitri and we're just starting a very long journey together.

I also have a new job, same place but a different office. I'm a communications advisor, which is the direction I've been wanting to head into for a long time now. I'm also the editor of the employee newsletter.  Yay for me! You should see me, interviewing, arranging photo shoots, creating issue lineups and trying to keep my coworkers informed and entertained as best I can. This is what I've been wanting. I hope to excel as I face new challenges (and I mean challenges!) and prove my worth amongst a very talented group of people.

Happy Birthday America!!!!

Yay it's July 4th!!!! Here's to my favorite country in the whole wide world. This great nation of mine, the United States of America. Happy Birthday!!!

Literary Freestylin': Chapter 1

OK, I'm back. Took a longer break than I intended. As I feared, other things have bumrushed my mind and clogged my creative flow. But I said I would do it, and I will. However, it's not a full chapter. I'll say this is more of an introduction (refer to my previous post if you're clueless about what I'm talking about). I don't know, it's rough, but there might be something here. It doesn't have a name yet. I'll see how I feel as it develops. Might end up being something.

Chapter 1 

Up until Abraham Jackson started working in the communications department, Grace had enjoyed relative comfort in her daily interactions with her coworkers. No one struck her as particularly odd or even particularly interesting; they were your average office workers who mustered smiles and said hellos and goodbyes and sometimes stopped to make chit chat before continuing about their business. But Abraham, her new boss, was different. Grace picked up a strange vibe about him, one that made her doubt her sanity. It was unsettling actually. Tonya, the managing editor, knocked on Grace's cube wall that morning, full of her usual cheer, and introduced Abraham Jackson, assistant managing editor. She felt apprehensive as Abraham extended his hand to her. He said hello, nice meet you. She said the same, and mustered an uncomfortable smile, as he took longer than socially necessary to complete the handshake. Tonya then said something about his previous job, Radar Media, in Chicago. And how she'd call a formal meeting later that afternoon. That's all Grace could recall from the conversation after the two left her work space. 


She sat there regaining her composure after what had just happened. While Tonya chattered away, Grace could have sworn that Abraham was saying things to her that Tonya couldn't hear. But Grace heard it. When Abraham first touched her hand, she heard a voice whisper in her ear. It was like an echo of his voice, yet it said something different than hello. It said "Long time no see, Grace. How  have you been my love?" 

Literary Freestylin': I'm Finna Try it Again

So it's 2:30am. I'm eating grapes and gyrating to dancehall music. I have Chaka Demus and Pliers' "Murder She Wrote" on repeat and just finished working my thang in front of the mirror like I'm sexy or something. You can't tell me my dutty wine isn't Hall of Fame worthy. Prior to this, I was perusing my blog archives and reunited with a short story I posted on here 3 years ago. I wrote it chapter by chapter over several weeks. It was about the adventure of an overweight bookworm who met a man intent on introducing her to a new world of eroticism and fear. Here's an excerpt:


"Tell me what you desire most."
"Do you have all night? I desire a lot of things."
"As do I. But every list begins with one thing. That thing, or desire, is usually the most important."
Sweety held the phone to her ear the way she would have held his hand to her cheek.
"A man’s touch."
"I see," he said thoughtfully. "That's interesting. Tell me, Sweety, would you say you are suffering from skin hunger?"
"I never thought about it that way, but yes, I would say that."
"What terrifies you the most?"
"Drowning. I can’t swim and almost drowned when I was little."

Raymond, "Papi," took some time before replying. Sweety knew he was contemplating something profound, everything he said seemed like it belonged in a text book. She had discovered his blog Mind Factor two weeks earlier and was immediately intrigued at his eloquence and intelligence in his latest post in which he described the often taboo relationship between fear and eroticism. She left a comment and the link to her own blog, Loserville, Population: Me. Papi visited her blog and over the course of several days generously left detailed replies to all 75 posts. This was her fourth consecutive night of intense phone communication with him. During that short time, he had managed to coax experiences and personal admissions from Sweety that she dared only repeat to herself.

Finally he said “I know what you need. For the two extremes to collide--can you imagine what that would do to your senses? To fear your surroundings, but to squirm in pleasure beneath the hands that confine you there."
And that's when he started to tell her about a special underworld he governed, complete with clients and a collage of "wishmasters" who served those clients' needs.


Read the whole thing here. 

Promise me you won't judge me. I'm just a writer relaying a story a character told me.


Well, I was impressed by myself to say it was a literary freestyle. Meaning I didn't think about it beforehand or cut and paste it from an existing document. I just looked at what I last wrote, started a new post, and got to typing whatever came to mind.


I want to do it again. It's a great way to relive writer's block and to get the creative juices flowing as the saying goes. I'm not going to promise a certain number of chapters or anything because literary freestylin doesn't work that way. It just flows. By the end, I hope it will have improved my flow on my short story collection. 

So, later on today, after I've gotten some rest, I'll sit down and get started on Chapter 1 of some type of story. It's been a while, I hope the old brain can still do it on the fly. I'll let you be the judge. While I said I don't plan ahead for freestyles, I'm giving myself a start time only to hold myself accountable. I won't cheat, it'll be totally as I go.


Signed,

JenntheEditor (I've never used this handle before establishing it on Twitter. I kind of like it. I think 'JenntheEditor' will be my new thing. It has a nice ring to it.)

An Ode to the Passage of Time

This week, among the many stories that captivated the public's interest, was the story of Karen Klein, a 68-year-old school bus monitor, who was videotaped being verbally abused and bullied by a group of middle school kids until she cried. The outrage over the kids' lack of respect and cruelty has been nothing short of astonishing. Money has been pouring in from all over the world from people who want for Ms. Klein to take a well-deserved vacation. Some would like to see her retire and never have to do that type of work again. As I type this sentence, strangers moved by this poor woman's suffering have donated over $577,000.

The power of the internet. The power of humans seeing one of their own in need.

The power of the passage of time.

Ahh yes, time. The interesting thing about time is that none of us can escape it. Seemingly before those kids know it, they too will be older, and will have to venture out into the world each day, taking their chances that they don't cross paths with people, maybe even children, who for their own reasons find excitement in targeting those who cannot defend themselves. They'll will know how it feels to be easy pickings for cowards.

I'm not talking about karma, just the inevitability of the life cycle. We are born vulnerable, relying on others to see us into the next phase of life. We then repeat our beginnings, relying again on others to see us into our next...and final phase.

Despite all I've just written, I know that kids grow up. And that our actions as children don't define who we are as adults. I remember how mischievous and annoying I was as a kid. I was a good kid, but I went through a phase where I would purposely aggravate my grandfather when my mother wasn't around. I was an only child, and perhaps saw him as a cure for my boredom. I didn't know then all the wisdom that sat before me. All the stories of what it was like to grow up in rural Louisiana in the 1920s. I was just too young to appreciate him.

I've strayed so far from the point of my post, or maybe I haven't. I just wanted to add a voice in support of Ms. Klein. And then I got to remembering the grandfather who I annoyed and pestered. The grandfather who by the time I was old enough to finally ask all those questions, was gone.

If only we could appreciate our elders while we are young. There's no guarantee they'll still be around when we've entered into our next phase.


 Love,

JenntheEditor