Cranial Gunk

Sometimes it is not a matter of what is said (or being the first to say it) but a matter not being the only one saying it.

I began blogging with the hope that it would reacquaint me with writing. I had taken a long hiatus – Almost 10 years! – from writing, frustrated with my life and my aspirations in poetry and fiction. My first posts were very personal (at least as personal as I was comfortable getting with an anonymous public audience).

Then a friend introduced me to Penelope Trunk’s blog. She had a post about how a blog was essential to a successful career. I wanted a successful career so I began writing more topical posts and shed the more personal “I”. I tried to be more researched and included links to sources. Eventually, I started another blog (K2Twelve) with the purpose of presenting my professional opinion on issues impacting grade K through 12 education.

At one point in time, I had two blogs: Cranial Gunk for more personal writing and thoughts on anything that interested me and K2Twelve for writing specifically addressing issues of education. I also contributed to a group blog for Asian American fathers – Rice Daddies. 

The problem was I was not creating enough content to sustain three blog obligations. Posts I wrote for K2Twelve were being simultaneously posted on Cranial Gunk – so were posts for Rice Daddies. I kept the latter but decided to redirect the former to Cranial Gunk. It felt like the right thing to do. I had been reading so much about the benefits of getting personal on your blog. I don’t know where I read it but I also read something about the detractions of having two blogs. I decided if my personal opinions – which are neither extreme or accusatory – hurt my chances at obtaining/maintaining a job than perhaps I just didn’t belong there.

This is not to say I am completely naive. I understand time is scarce and financial resources even scarcer when it comes to looking for a job. It is truly a situation of finding the right fit but you also need to eat – and in my situation, I need the insurance for my children. I understand the need to compromise and the need to sometimes look the other way when I notice something objectionable. I honestly express my opinions in my blog but am careful to take other’s feelings into consideration. I don’t believe in collateral damage (for the most part).

Last week I attended my first bloggers “event.” I attended Blog Out Loud Event 6. I learned about it from Michelle Ward on the Brazen Careerist network. She announced she was speaking at the event and that admission was free. It was an opportunity for me to meet at least one of the people I have been interacting with virtually over the past couple of months. Unfortunately on the day of the event, the wallflower in me took over and I scurried home as soon as the panel concluded.

However, I didn’t totally blow it. There is something about surrounding yourself with complete strangers who have had the same questions and challenges that you have had. Now I’m not saying misery loves company, just that it is oddly empowering and comforting knowing that I am not alone.

It got even better when I learned from Megan and Rebecca (the organizers) that the event was self funded and a result of donated time, goods, and services. It reminded me of what passion can achieve.

Last year I was given the opportunity to address an audience of fourth through twelfth graders at an awards ceremony. The speech I gave was not how I imagined it. While I knew what I wanted to say, armed with only an outline, I rambled and eventually my audience lost sight of my point. I posted the speech I imagined giving and promised myself that I would do better the next time around.

The next time came around – Same awards ceremony – Even some of the same teachers! I remembered my promise. This time I was determined to keep my audience with me. This time I wrote my speech down. I was determined not to ramble. This time I read instead of spoke and lost my audience quicker than the first time – the former being more contrived and mechanical than the latter, which often comes off more sincere.

This time was worse than the last time. And what bothers me most is I don’t know when I became such a poor public speaker?

I have conducted teacher training workshops after a long school day, read my poetry to folks more eager for their turn at the mike than to hear me, and taught middle school (typically the toughest age). I have done all of this without a stutter so why is giving a congratulatory speech to a receptive audience so unnerving for me? Why does my tongue trip over my teeth? And my mouth mar the beautiful thoughts I have thunk?

I wanted to talk to the participants – who were there to celebrate their achievements during the semester – about the season finale of Glee. I thought it was a good lesson on the notion of winning. I thought the popularity of the show would provide my audience with a common focal point. I was wrong. Glee is not texting (which the audience last year was resoundingly positive to). Glee drew shy acknowledgements from its handful of fans in the audience.

But I went on.

I went on to tell the story of the Glee season finale. I gave away the ending. The protagonists in New Directions do not win at Regionals. The reigning champions do – Vocal Adrenalin. If Glee were real I would count myself among the members of New Directions – not because they are the protagonists – but because I have always felt a kinship with the underdogs and the misfits – those who are not supposed to win – those who through adversity learn to value the “little things in life.”

New Directions did not win Regionals but they did take comfort in the life lesson losing had provided. They acknowledged who they’ve been and who they are becoming. Lulu’s “To Sir With Love” was an excellent finale choice with its themes of growth and acknowledgement. The Sidney Poitier movie of the same name that introduced the song is also an excellent story with the same themes.

I thought this was an appropriate message to provide the audience of winners I was speaking to. Unfortunately, the message was lost in my incoherence.

I want to believe that maybe like the members of New Directions this recent loss will provide me with a life lesson as well. But so far all it has generated is the wish I could do the day all over again. And this time I would not read. I would return to my outline (with maybe a few more notations).