Monday, May 6, 2019

Only in the movies can you break the time travel rule.

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

People often write letters to their younger selves, in a kind of “if I knew then what I know now,” moment. The desire to go back and change things is strong, and for some, creates unhappiness and regret that overshadows whatever goodness and happiness they have today.

I have done things I regret, and also lived through a large share of trauma and drama. I’ve spent my time in “if only” daydreams, thinking about all the “could-a, would-a, should-a” moments. But, as is often reinforced in many, many, sci fi movies, time travel to change things can cause unintended consequences. Even The Avengers would agree with me. Only in the movies can you break the time travel rule.

I realize that if I could wish away certain decisions and events, many things in my life today would be different. I might have more money, I might have pursued an entirely different career path – my life would probably look vastly different than it does today. And most likely, if I had children, they would not be the ones I would give my life for today, I would not have the “love of my life” relationship I have today – in fact, most likely everyone I know and everything I am familiar with would be gone. In the snap of my own fingers.

Yes, maybe other children, other loves, other living conditions. Maybe more “happiness” and “success,” maybe not. But that uncertain roll of the dice isn’t even the real reason I gave up the time travel daydreams years ago.

When I look into the eyes of my children, my grandchildren, the love of my life and all my relative and friends — even with all their flaws and drama—I could never take the chance of losing them. So that means I must accept my own flaws and drama as well as the good, bad, and ugly things I have lived through.

I’ll save time travel for “going down memory lane”— which seems to be a neighborhood I’m visiting a little more frequently as I get older. And I’ll leave the rest to the comic book superheroes.

Friday, May 3, 2019

On Being a Storyteller (and why I always stay for the credits)

A pile of research books with notes hangin out of them, pencils used as bookmarks.
photo from pixabay

I am a storyteller — admittedly, not in the best-selling novelist or award-winning investigative journalist realm, but a storyteller just the same. Perhaps thousands of years ago, I would have been the person charged with retaining and passing on oral history. As I aged into the “wise crone” part of life, maybe I would have been sought out for healing, peacemaking and problem solving. But in today’s world of Public Relations, Public Information and Strategic Communications I’ve mostly been telling the stories of the entities I worked for. Some of those stories can still bring a smile to my face or a tear to my eye. But, even if you are convincing customers that they need your company’s newly-design gizmo, you too, are a storyteller.

Being a storyteller requires research skills, and the ability to phrase what you find in a way that others can understand. You have the power to educate, inform, and touch emotions. It is a powerful responsibility and an often-rewarding profession. Sometimes the stories are bad news or controversial. Research may reveal scientific and social disagreements. You, your client or employer may have a specific point of view to present. But perhaps the worst thing you can do is present opinion as fact without identifying it as such. Again, research becomes the key.

It is not my intent to discuss what constitutes good or bad research sources. I will advise that it can be problematic to rely on a single point of research in some cases. Most often, I research myself into a pile of other people’s work. Scientists, doctors, lawyers, economists, teachers, humorists – and a whole host of those I will call well-being experts and practitioners. I’ve gone on web-based scavenger hunts tracking down an original research paper that was mentioned in a news story. Because I am a storyteller, looking to educate and inform, not the person or group actually hitting the ground to produce the supporting work pertaining to the subject I am writing about.

I am the person who just read all the credits at the back of the presentation materials at a recent conference. I am the person who may post a reaction to a social media post and include a link to a source I respect. I am also that person, still sitting in the theater as the cleaning crew comes in, watching the movie credits that are too tiny and pass by too fast to actually read.

Researchers, I salute you, and thank you. I am about to join your ranks, in a fashion, for a project about the weaponization of laughter. My intention is to speak directly with people who have been the victim or the user of weaponized laughter, to highlight how powerful laughter is, why it is a survival tool that has the power to both heal and harm. And, to follow the advice of my friend Carol, who I hope is looking down at me and smiling, "It's time to stop making everyone else look good." So, as the Daughter of Laughter and Chaos, I will be telling my own story too.

If you have a story, I’d love to hear from you.

(and yes, with the abundant use of "I" here, this IS an Opinion Piece, the sole source of research being me. 😁)

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

NAPOWRIMO April 23, 2019

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay
Poem Written at the Intersection of Baseball, Eyeball and Age

Who knew I would wake up one morning
to someone playing “Asteroids” in my eye,
missing every tumbling rock
and stringy dark alien ship
letting them come around again.

Who knew that wasn’t a swarm of gnats
flying around in my peripheral vision
and the more I swatted the more they flew
while a dark arch of nothingness
hovered over my head.

No wonder people believed in fairies
making mischief at the edge of vision
or swarms of bugs on arms and legs
that could not be swatted
and that no one else could see.

So, I’m glad to live in world where
Posterior Vitreous Detachment
has replaced supernatural attackers
and suspicions of insanity
for the time being, anyway.

©2019 Noreen Braman

Thursday, April 18, 2019

NAPOWRIMO April 18, 2019

Image by Mauro Pittarello from Pixabay

Like a toddler winding up
when everyone else is winding down
resisting the pull of sleep
distractions to stay awake.
The loss of consciousness
a scary, mysterious state
a sense of being left out.
unlike a toddler’s fear of the unknown
More a dread of the known
another day of marching in place
another day of anxious pacing
forgetting the plans made the night before
during the anxiety over
©2019 Noreen Braman

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

NAPOWRIMO April 17, 2019


Perhaps the rabbit hole is necessary,
a tumbling journey into mayhem
all while alternating the way you fit in the world.
conversing with or projecting madness,
realizing it all was a game of chance,
played in a high stakes garden of lies,
leading to the final understanding:
You will leave nothing behind but a smile.
©2019 Noreen Braman

Monday, April 15, 2019

NAPOWRIMO April 15, 2019

photo of an hourglass in focus, with a blurred background of pens, books and alarm clocks.
Photo by Mike from Pexels
The Conservation of Verse

The ides of April find me
short on poetry,
at least of my own making.
As a crone of waning moon
resources are conserved,
for joy more than utility.
That which brings light is welcomed,
words sparse but far more intense,
weighed against the measure of time.

©2019 Noreen Braman

Sunday, April 7, 2019

NAPOWRIMO April 7, 2019 Catching Up


Consumed a heaping plate
Of imposter syndrome last night.
Wondering if it is still a syndrome
If it's true.
Convinced of ineptness in all that I do,
A shadow still lingering in early morning light.

(C)2019 Noreen Braman