"Keep Calm and Carry On"

The slogan of a British WWII-era propaganda poster has become my personal mantra. I find myself chanting it over and over, in the shower, in the car, in the line at the grocery store. I'm constantly on the move, and, at the end of the day, when I rest my weary head on a feather-filled pillow, I review the contents of my day and wonder, What have I accomplished today?

The answer, oftentimes, is nothing. Nothing worth noting, at least. The "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster was never distributed, and I wonder if it is because the Brits were doing just what they were supposed to be doing--the mundane, day-to-day chores and obligations--by not doing anything, such as having adventures, achieving lifelong dreams, or stepping outside the safe, familiar box in which their cozy, boring lives were nestled.

So, for now, just as the Brits, I shall do just that, "Keep Calm and Carry On," which means I'll continue to do everything I'm supposed to do by doing nothing at all, but one day, I may surprise us all.

"There Is No Academic Precedence for Writing about Tesla."

Last night I spent an evening with Chuck Klosterman, author of, most notably, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, who discussed, eventually, social media and the effects it has on journalism today.

First, Klosterman is excruciatingly funny, in a geeky-boy-next-door sort of way. He uses the adjective "interesting" almost obsessively, and his Fargo-like accent laced with a subtle lisp is endearing. Admitting to an audience member that his green and black-striped sweater came from the Gap made him even more real than he was before. I identified with him instantaneously as he recounted his humble upbringing in a town of less than 5,000 people and reminisced of the good ole days spent listening to Ratt, Poison, and other popular hair-metal bands.

I was captivated as Klosterman, perhaps inadvertantly, bequeathed his audience with several of his own life lessons, which, to me, were the most informative bits of his two-hour discourse.

1. "Do not be afraid to ask obvious questions." Klosterman related his eventual path to employment and how it shaped him as a writer. He was not chosen for a job because of a more experienced candidate. Naturally inquisitive, he asked who had been chosen for the opening and immediately contacted the institution from which that person would be departing, securing himself as the departee's replacement, perhaps, as he said, not because he was most talented but because he was perceived as being psychic. This reminds me of the adage "There is no such thing as a stupid question." Humans are inherently curious, and it's that curiosity that has delivered us to these times. Is there such a thing as a stupid question? It depends on who you're asking, I suppose, and what the answer is.

2. "A writer wants to write. An author just wants a book." Author of five books, the sixth hitting the stands in October, Klosterman is a writer, a real writer who is able to keep his head above water in a world that is flooded with flailing literary attempts. Debunking the "writing ritual" so many are interested in, he explains that, when inspired, he writes; he is not methodical in his writing, meaning he does not prepare himself to write by "...smoking two cigarettes, listening to...Metallica,...downing a bunch of Gatorade,...then writing for two hours." There is no rhyme or reason to creativity and when it will flow, so write when the time is right and the ideas are there.

3. "The biggest decisions you make in your life are the arbitrary contradictions you never think about." Hindsight, they say, is 20/20, and, taking that into consideration, all of the mindless decisions made day in, day out, have had more of an effect on me than any other. Although most pale in comparison to the "that was the biggest decision I ever had to make" decisions, which are numerous, the "arbitrary contradictions" are what have shaped me as an individual, a creative, intellectual, peculiar individual. Thanks for reminding me, Chuck, to embrace my inner geekiness, the part of myself I am most comfortable with.

4. And finally, "If you're going to do something creative, you better like it--you better love it." Klosterman committed himself to writing, and, after being asked to revise his first manuscript to fit someone else's vision, he declined a publishing deal, only to find an agent who was able to sell his manuscript, in its original form, to Scribner. He would not morph himself to fit te mold of the "here and now," what someone else thought would be most marketable; instead, he stayed true to his craft and, ultimately, got the upper hand.

Here's to Chuck Klosterman, the most unassuming man in the room.

Listening: Sigur Ros.

By George

I've been writing a short story about a fictitious character named George Freehly. George has evolved from a pleasant middle-aged man living on the third floor of a soaring downtown apartment to a nosy next-door neighbor who resides at the corner of 6th and Bean. Today, though, George has relocated to a retirement village: the lawn is dotted with Bocci-ball-playing octogenarians wearing knee socks and suspenders while blue-haired ladies congregate in the dining hall for an afternoon round of canasta. Recently, George has become something altogether unexpected: a patron of Suds and Such Laundromat, where he can drop his pants on Wednesdays for half price.

On his way home from donating blood at the local blood bank, something he does on a regular basis, as he has the universal blood type but can never remember exactly what that is, he parks his Vespa scooter in front of Suds and Such and, emptyhanded, makes his way in. He sits in the same plastic chair in front of the same washer as the day before...and the day before...and the day before that. It is here where he watches clothes, not his own, mind you--socks that will not have a mate after drying, sweat-stained white undershirts, a woman's oversized hawaiian-print mumu--twist and turn through the spin cycle and extra rinse and reckons the washer is representative of his life: a series of predictable events with only the cleanest of outcomes. He's never taken a risk, unless he counts the time he jaywalked last fall and feigned confusion upon being questioned by a policeman, which resulted in a police escort back to the "old folks' home."

Now, this is where George becomes blurry in my mind. What kind of risk could George take? Who can George become? It's like a late-life coming-of-age, and there are myriad possibilities. George Freehly...a paradox of my own creation.