13

13 years ago you pressed on my belly, my ribs, my bladder
pushing your way out, demanding your time
Before
You hid from the world for months, waiting to make your presence known
in your way
Later
You were the oldest small child anyone met
Conversing and carrying on with adults all over the world
Later still
You hid again. Biding your time, hiding behind your laugh
It wasn't yet time
Now
You appear in flashes and whispers, in digital verse and sketches full of subtlety and depth
Almost time
to reveal yourself again, yet different. Grown and growing. Evolved and evolving.
Change is the only constant,
but you've known that from the beginning
13 years ago.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

To the Snarky One in the Room:

Your comments, though often humorous and interesting, detract from the productivity of everyone involved in the creative process. When you point out something obvious, in a marvelous combination of acidity and wit, we all notice and give you attention; however, you have only lost the respect of those of us who are trying to make the best possible product out of an imperfect process.

Your talent for vocalizing your perceptions of the flaws and weaknesses in others is unparalleled. And sad. Have you so few gifts to employ and share with others?

Apparently.

And yet, I have compassion for you. I have been you: Insecure, inexperienced, and unnecessary in a room full of masters.

I urge you, for your future, stop burning the bridges and learn to keep your mouth shut. Employ the gift of an inner monologue. I promise, we - your captive audience - are tired of hearing your voice constantly polluting the (sacred) space. And, in the event you have an idea worth airing, we might be open to entertaining it. At present, I say "no" before you've even finished your sentence.

Oh, snarky one, I know you will probably not read this, but just in case: take this little note as a lesson in method. I did not call you out in front of your peers, and I did not eat your (precious) work time with the full cast by vocalizing my opinion at every pause for breath. As much as I would have liked to; it would not have served the larger purpose for which we are all employed: to make a great piece of art.

Walking away with joy,

-k.k. :)



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad