replaced rust with free spirit.
long distance communications wrapped up with:
“it takes balls not to have an abortion”
the prelude of a non-spontaneous purchase of a 24 pack of colored pencils
to make it myself.
I’ve been finding myself in spaces that are out of my comfort zone, the slippery slope of trying out new things and new ways of thinking. Yesterday was no exception. The irony of sitting through a precision workshop for eight hours was not lost on me. It was noted that I think out loud which pretty much takes me off the executive track or even the ability to meet with the executives. [Note to self: celebrate and honor this.] Learning the language of Power was the hidden subtext of the day’s activities.
The workshop was an immersion into a hyper-masculine way of thinking and ultimately practice of precision. Learning how to answer concisely is not a bad thing and learning how to ask questions that are more direct isn’t either. It’s the big picture of how these techniques are used to influence conversation and potentially alienate those who don’t think this way (i.e. non-executives or people who are not in positions of Power) that left me drained, drained of hope and creativity. It also left me with a new-found skill of listening for this technique so that I may either avoid or engage. Fight or flight.
Now I wish I didn’t hear it all around me.
Having an opportunity to observe a culture that is the opposite of your constructed reality is a rare privilege and requires a perverse sense of adventure.
Deconstructing signs that on the surface seemed to demand a forced dichotomy was exhausting. In fact, realizing that the human experience is homogenized despite one’s circumstances was a chance to expose the soft underbelly of the fabrication.
Understanding one’s place between these two realities is an intimate undertaking. Cultural scopophilia never felt so good.