Americano, Pencil, Paper

In contrast to what is thought to be required of me, last night I decided to do some more writing of a non-legal sense. While my classmates fine tuned outlines and cranked out memos I decided to do a little scribble therapy. Here's what I came up with.


"Lead Feet & A Paper Path"

What worth are these words
What meaning is derived
By
P-u-t-t-i-n-g
~~~~~~ lead
on a page

There is no power in this pencil
No magic between the movement
Of my hand
And
This utensil

It is in the impetus
It is in the amorphous
It is in the things that are real
But
[unseen]

The truth is in the cluster
The realization in the mess
We are the meaning
People are poetry




"John Lennon Dared Me To"

Imagine if you will
That you are someone else
A new name
A new face
[An identity all but foreign]
Known only from your infrequent wanderous thoughts

Who are you?

Are you a Ballerina in the 20's
Who fled home and joined the show
Because with each pirouette
You're unraveling the ---
-- strings
- that
Had woven together over time
To tie you to a dead end town

Are you Elanor
Fighting for true love
Even though you'll never have it for your own
Even the first lady longs
[... for her first lady]
But her march for equality
Has legs weaker
Than those she's sacrificially stood beside for so long

Maybe you're the notes floating off Jimi's guitar
And
Onto the souls of 10,000 dancing feet
Because expression is better than repression
And it's about your life was your own experiment
[experience]
Something more [other] than seeing
Which parent's path was right in the end

Yet and still maybe you imagine yourself nothing
A void
[vacuous]
Vast expanse of ............
There's no room for hurt in a vacuum
And bruises don't linger on air
[perfection in the form of inexistence]

Or maybe you're me
Sitting across from you
Imagining you Imagining me
Chasing you
Through the vast ---- [infinity]
.....
-----
.....
The mind is full of infinite paths
And my thoughts have wearyless legs
[Can we run together for a while?]




Eat em up, Spit em back out, or pass it on to the next guest...

Cheers.

After a Year of Silence

So last night I picked up my bottle of Johnny Walker and as luck would have it my notebook and a pencil... This is what followed. Not sure how I feel about it.

"Wide Eyes and Licorice"

Wide eyed...
I stood there trembling
My hands pressed hard against hers
But...
Frozen
Time
...and...
Space

Words hanging still in the air
Like decorations left up from Christmas
[it's may...
.... I guess the holiday never ended]

And in that still and silence
A faint laughter
Soft and Innocent
And there in the gateway to his soul stood a child
small, curious
Toe headed as the sun
That shone like his smile
Blissful

The world that was before him was one he'd not yet seen
What were these glass orbs strewn across the floor
What were these ember tipped sticks making clouds in the room
hmmm....
Funny thought the boy

Then with childish ignorance he
Turned
And began to run
Back into the depth of his gateway
Arms stretched wide
Wide as the recesses he was running back into

He had seen things that were foreign and funny
Things a child had no business pondering

Instead he'd rather run
Run for hours in the forest of my mind
Chasing thoughts like butterflies
And ignoring fears like licorice

....
........
....

If only it were that simple
And you could pick your thoughts
Like candies at the drug store

Instead we pick drugs like candies
Hoping they take us to a sweeter day
A day where we run with the little boy
That sparkles in our eye

For now I'll trade that sparkle
For a tremble
Wide eyed....

--------

Look into me.

A blog about an email about a comment

Discrimination at the University of Alabama? No never. I hope this will stir up some discussion and interest about what has happened on our campus and the way it was handled. In the event that you aren't aware. Here's a bit of context for you.

Check it here

Here is the editorial I wrote for the newspaper regarding the email response President Witt sent out about the "racial slur" that occurred Friday night. Enjoy.


"Witt Squanders Opportunity to Promote Pluralism":

On Saturday afternoon, as most students are now aware, Dr. Witt emailed the student body in an attempt to address “a racial slur” that was “offensive to our community, and especially upsetting to African Americans”.

President Witt goes on to issue a 63 word response that could only be summed up as short sighted and reactionary. At surface level this response looks “very, very nice” and “Noble”, but for students who actually look deeper into what is being said, it is actually quite offensive and exclusionary.

To explain this further I’ll use the ever so famous “Tip of my hat, Wag of my finger approach” made famous by the always brilliant Stephen Colbert.

A tip of my hat to you, President Witt, for attempting to act nobly by whisking in to take up the cause of a student facing discrimination. You even went as far as underlining the words “In strongest Possible terms” to show that you meant it in the strongest possible terms. And I agree, racism, discrimination and hate speech in any form should not be tolerated at this University or in any setting.

But a wag of my finger to President Witt and his press secretary who allowed him to send such an email without thinking of the larger issue to which this incident speaks. As I said before, any speech or action of this sort is deplorable and should not be tolerated. But by singling out one instance and addressing it alone, Dr. Witt further disenfranchised so many students who feel discrimination every day on this campus. Discrimination occurs every moment against {racially, socially, religious, gender, sexual preference}, etc. diverse groups and yet this is the only isolated instance that gets addressed.


Unlike most Barn Burning editorials, I would actually like to offer a solution for President Whitt and his public relations staff. Instead of isolating one fragment of the student body, address the larger issue as a whole. Address the fact that as colleagues at the University of Alabama we should be promoting a spirit of pluralism. The key to stopping discrimination is by embracing the characteristics that make us different, not running from them.

I’ll leave you with this request: THINK! As simplistic and cliché as it sounds, if students as well as faculty and administrators would stop and think about the issues they are presented with instead of acting out of impulse, we would receive a lot less half-“Witt”ed apologies.

Fear and Loathing in Rammer Jammer: An Autobiography

I realize that this is most likely an effort in futility, and odds are that no one really gives this blog the glance anymore. Which makes this all the more perfect for me to post this on here.

Let me preface this by saying that in no way do I intend this to be a self-consumed or self-gratifying post. I put this up here with the hopes that if someone stumbles across it they will glean something of value. (If nothing else read the epilogue... no one does those anymore.)

Moving along, my thesis professor told us that we had to write our academic autobiography and in doing so I realized a lot about myself. Whether I convey that well here or not is debatable. Nonetheless, I think there is some beneficial information in here when thinking about educational careers. So without further a-du:




Fear and Loathing In Rammer Jammer: The Academic Autobiography of Michael A. Wynn

Eclectic. By definition most people understand this as “deriving ideas, style, or taste from a broad and diverse range of sources.” However, for the purpose of this piece, as well as for the justification of my academic career, let us instead view eclectic as meaning “of, denoting, or belonging to a class of ancient philosophers who did not belong to or found any recognized school of thought but selected such doctrines as they wished from various schools.” While I obviously do not consider myself an ancient philosopher, over the course of my academic career I began affiliating myself with and engaging in a wide array of activities that I felt would make me into a person well versed in not just one concentration but in numerous fields spanning disciplines, talents, and groups. As an aspiring attorney, I knew from the outset that success lay somewhere in the grey area of blended careers and ambitions. I only wish someone had told me that excessive sleep deprivation, caffeine binges, and library live-ins were also thrown in that mix; but I digress. The important component to understanding the synthesis of the existence I am currently residing in, requires tracing back through the rabbit hole that winds all the way to a wide eyed, shaggy haired, eighteen year old Floridian surfer dropped in the middle of crimson covered Alabama.

As an incoming Honors freshman from a small town and an equally small-minded high school, the life of diversified scholasticism seemed daunting. Or in more plain terms, it scared the ever-living hell out of me. At the very outset, I was pitted with a difficult decision because my parents had laid out a twelve-step Scholastics Anonymous plan for me to follow in order to achieve some pseudo-Maslowian construct of Self-Actualization. Apparently they missed the “self” prefix in “Self-Actualization”. It seemed as though it was Business School or bust. So as any good freshman that was indebted to their parents would do, I blindly complied; Step 1: Admit you have a problem – “Hello. My name is Michael, and I’m a freshman Business major.” I knew that in order for me to retain sanity, it was integral that I expose myself to experiences different from those found within my day-to-day business-centric class regiment. Thus I decided to pursue a minor in Communication(NO “S”) Studies. Little did I know that this decision and one Com 101 seminar taught by the brilliant and engaging Dr. Carol Bishop Mills would change my academic career forever.

Allow me if you will to elaborate for a moment on the importance of this class. While all of my prior classes had been incredibly linear, this class experience challenged me to be educationally amorphous. That is, realize it was perfectly acceptable to think nonlinearly about issues. One theory that I applied this new scope of learning to was that of Goffman and his idea of the Preservation of Self. As I read about this concept of “the actor” and his “stage”, I saw myself. I was an actor on a stage, except I was following someone else’s life script. A change had to be made. I had to be intellectually pushed and fulfilled. This brings me to my sophomore year.

It did not take a full semester in my second year of the business school for me to realize how unfulfilled I was. A change had to be made. Thus, I took the foundation that was laid during my inaugural year, and in one swift act trashed the life script that had been written for me; closed the curtain to that “stage”; flipped the bird to Scholastics Anonymous and transferred to the College of Communication and Information Sciences; and after some deliberation and trial and error arrived at Communication Studies as major. No other discipline equipped me with the ability to perform an in-depth analysis on the words and actions of others as well as myself; and then pair this analysis with the skills to unpack, contextualize, and then synthesize them into useful, persuasive discourse.

In keeping with the spirit of eclecticism, I could not merely study one discipline within Communication Studies over the next two years. I thrived on the idea of immersing myself in varied facets within the discipline to diversify myself in hopes of being a well-rounded student of the art. Interpersonal, Small Group, Rhetoric, Argumentation, Research and Analysis, and so on and so forth; no com rock was left unturned. Coupling this with a slew of classes covering the educational gamut, I now am looking toward the graduation podium knowing that I have much more than the degree listed on my diploma. I have a diversified wealth of knowledge that will make me competitive across the board.

Which brings us to the all-important question, “Why Communication?” How am I to convey the gravity and worth of the skills that have been imparted to me? I know that I am supposed to discuss a theory or an author or something tangible of the sort that has really held me faithful to the study of communication. However, I believe it is the intangible that has held me here. That is, it is the application of gleanings from my Communication Studies classes in courses and scenarios outside the department that continually reaffirm my decision to pursue this in my undergraduate career. I suppose the closest theoretical likening to and justification for my self proclaimed academic eclecticism is entwined with Humanistic Scholarship. Just as the humanist aims for subjectivity and the search and discovery of creative individualism as a means of knowing; as have I made it a point to creatively assemble my academic career in a manner that allows me to retain subjectivity as I view and interpret the world. Unfortunately, telling that to a potential employer would end in one of two likely results: 1) puzzled looks or 2) riotous laughter. Which brings us to the crux upon which every other questions rest, how does one convey adequacy in the work place when pitted against people from more traditional disciplines? Are we as communication studies majors adequately prepared to compete in the rigorous dog eat dog business market? To which I respond vehemently, emphatically, unequivocally, beyond a shadow of any rising doubt, maybe.

I apologize for the anticlimacticism of the previous statement, however it was entirely necessary. Allow me to explain. Communication studies is, in my humble opinion, a unique discipline in that it does not demand conformity and thus in turn does not produce predictable results. For example, when one completes a degree in accounting, it is reasonably assumed that said student is thereby capable of accomplishing a list of quantifiable, concrete, succinct objectives. No matter what university you examine, an accounting major will be able to perform the tangible tasks of accounting. Conversely, when looking at a student of communication studies what across the board quantifiable skill or service rendered is produced? Most would say there is none. This is not to say that as communication studies majors we are not endowed with usable skills or marketable traits, quite the opposite in fact. It is to say that for a student of communication studies it takes more than class attendance and graduation to make one’s self marketable. A claim of this sort is not without justification I assure you. Being that this is my autobiography, it is only fitting to use myself as an example. Consider this my unpacking of 4 years worth of covert ethnographic research on myself.

As mentioned previously, I always knew that my end goal was attending law school and in turn practicing law. I did not, however, know the best specific path to achieve said goal. I chose communication studies because it, more so than any other discipline would give the basis of skills necessary to be an effective and competitive law student. However, the major in and of itself was not the end. It was the catalyst. Communication studies equipped me with the lens through which to view all of my activities, whether academic or extra curricular. That is, my discipline gave me the theoretical basis, but my work outside of it would give me the marketable, tangible application. Thus, I began involving myself in organizations, activities, and non-discipline related curriculum that would allow me to have varied applications of my primary studies. It was within these involvements and undertakings that I was truly able to show my academic prowess and value. Had I not taken the initiative to diversify and apply myself, I would have nothing tangible to show potential employers or graduate programs leaving my undergraduate career. There in lies the beauty and the horror of being a communication studies major. At the end of the day, your schooling means nothing without the students drive to cultivate and apply it.

Epilogue:

What piece of self-elaborating, borderline narcissistic pseudo-expose writing would be complete without an epilogue? Most people simply have a concluding paragraph, but in the spirit of completing an arduous and somewhat pretentious piece of prose, an epilogue seems far more fitting. That being said, I leave you with these final thoughts. An undergraduate education is a precious, fragile, terrifying, mind opening, death defying, bank account squandering, hell of a thing. I say “thing” because to call it anything more definitive would be a disservice to the amorphousness with which everyone should view his or her undergraduate endeavor. The years that each student is allotted should be viewed with openness and eager expectation to grow. Do not for one fraction of a moment ever allow someone to dictate the path for you. Instead do as Thoreau urged and “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.” I leave you with this: live an applied life. All of the education in the world is useless if you do not take the initiative to own it, synthesize it, and live it.

So it's Been a Little while

And by a little while.... I mean a lot a while. Life has been flying past me at break neck speak and I'm holding on for dear life because I know the minute I stop I'll have to asses the aftermath of everything good and bad that's happened on this journey thus far.... And I dunno that I'm ready to do that yet.

Over the last week I did some writing again. It's not that I haven't wanted to write before now... I just couldn't. The muse wasn't with me if you will. But now apparently I have been inspired and thus feel the need to put this crap out here for any bored soul to pick at.

These poems are reflective, (one humorous, the others.... well they're... Just read and see). The last poem was actually written first. The first "poem" was written about 20 min after the second one. Which were both written over a glass of woodford reserve and water on the rocks at a poetry reading.... I wound up reading all three the same night.

Enjoy them. Laugh at them. Think about them. Respond to them.



“Thoughts From Last Night”


If you have to name them Uggs
Why would you wear them?
“Let’s represent a response to a stomach ulcer!” Right?

If it’s cold enough for tights
It’s not hot enough for track shorts

Wearing your pearls at 8 am
Doesn’t make up for wearing his boxers from 2 am

And, a shirt two sizes to large
Does NOT equal an aptly sized dress

They say that I should be more Christ-like in my treatment of you all
Thus I feel the need to set you all on fire
And send you straight to hell.



“Come out from the Fallout Shelter”


THE GROUND IS SHAKING!

For every kid
Who ever wanted to redraw the outlines of the world,
But Couldn’t
Because they were told they weren’t artistic…

They are on the rise,
And their paint brushes…
They are sharpened into sabers.

THE GROUND IS SHAKING!

For every old man
Who had a story to be told before his death bed
…was made

But now they’re rising from the grave
To show that they are to be remembered by more than inscriptions-
On pieces of limestone

THE GROUND IS SHAKING!

And will continue to shake
Until everyone realizes
That we are all called

To
Shake
And
To
Tremble

Because the reality is
That we may not have another day

To realize that we are all artists

We all have a mark to leave

A pen to bleed dry-

Dry
Like my eyes
After years and years
Of tears
Over the fears
That

One day the ground will stop shaking

And I….

….I will be left unmoved.





“One Day the World will See what this is, and not what They Want it to Be”


This is not a poem
This. Is. Not. A. Poem.
THIS
IS
NOT
A
FUCKING!!!!
(poem)

This is a needle and record dance
With me pushing into you
Until you scream the things I want to hear

This is a star fighting against the moon
Knowing it’s bigger and brighter
But proximity is always trying to push it out

This is a soldier coming home from war
Wanting nothing more than to see his sweetheart…
But all he gets is a note (on an empty refrigerator)

No…
This
Is
Not
a
…………………………………………………………………………….{poem}

This is a slave running for freedom
Fleeing for his life
But not being able to see his way out of the field

This is a crying child begging to be understood
Screaming until her face is filled with blood
But her parents can’t seem to speak her *divine dialect*

This is 2 brothers in 1970 Berlin
Wanting to be a free family
But forced to live separated because of – concrete –

This is 2 lovers who want to embrace
Dying to be viewed as equal
But sleeping in fear because the world is afraid of what’s different.

This is anyone
And anything
That ever felt - That this whole damn world
Was so concerned with making a buck
Off of the pains and struggles
THAT
We call day to day life
That they’d rather win a Pulitzer Prize
Or an Emmy
Then take a second to help
The Subject Piece
(of their real life exposé)

For them….
This is just a poem.

But this is NOT
Their
[FUCKING]
life.









Well that's all for this poet. I promise I'll strive to post again before 10 months. I really do cherish feedback. It's how I continue my change and search.

CHEERS!!!!!!
{m.w.}

Meaning in the mess of ink

So I figured it was about that time that I wrote another blog, sorry for the 2 or 3 of you who actually read this at the delinquency. So I have had a lot going both externally and internally since I’ve been back at Bama. I think the quote that sums it up took place in text conversation with my best friend. It went something to the effect of:
B: Life is a roller coaster, you just have to hang on and know that it’ll work out and be enjoyable in the end.
Me: Yeah…. I know… I just wanna get some snacks before I get on though….

That pretty much hits the nail on the head. Random, complex, and otherwise pointless at times… Nonetheless you can still laugh at it…But one thing that always seems to help me center things up is writing and listening to people read there writing.
Thus I decided to go to the first speak the speech of the semester last night and listen to some very talented writers, and hopefully find some inspiration.. AND I DID! I wound up writing a few poems there and then due to the prompting of another good friend, I decided to read. So for the 3 of you who read this and weren’t there Here is what I read. They were all written over the course of the weekend…..

I opened on a mildly humorous note:

Random Haiku # 67

I saw you out there
Hot like a brand new toaster
Shit! I am so toast.


Then….

To the Audience # 1:

When the background noise
Becomes the background of your life
When the white lies
Light up the blue skies
And day to day
You quickly
“That
I
Am
Meant
For
More.”

But what the hell is this more
Is it something waiting just outside the…..

(you decide what comes next)




The next two kind of go together….





The Preface:

Keep it short
Keep it sweet
My words you want to eat
Keep it predictable
Keep it literal
My thoughts become increasingly visceral

My mind is not a menu
For you to pick any 3
So you can tailor a feast for you
… of me



Puck-YU Chinese Take Out:

Hi! Can I take your order?
Oh yes sir,
I’d be more than happy to get you:
One blind following,
A side of fuck off
And a medium self-indulgence to drink
Anything else today sir?
Ok. Pull forward for your total.

And the grand total is…..
More than you could ever pay.

No sir we DON’T accept cash, credit, or check

No.. No sir.. This can’t go on your tab.

I don’t care that you’re late for a meeting

You’ve been coming here ordering the same thing
For the last 15 years

And by now your debt
Is more than anything
On this earth could ever ransom

You had to have known it would come to this one day…..

And I closed with this one that I wrote about 5 min before I spoke….




While I was Listening to Real Poet:

I am not a poet
No, I am no t a suave voice
With moving, grooving rhymes
That soothe your soul every time

No I am not a poet
I am not a tapestry
Upon which I paint my words
So
In
Divid
U
Al
Is
Tic
Ally

I am not a poet
I can’t seem to say just the right thing
At just the right time
To cause a tear to fall from your eye
Or move you from your space to mine

I am
(none of these)

I am No Whitman, No Dickinson, No Poe
I dream of being as Baraka, as Ginsberg, or Thoreau

Yet I will never be

I wil never be
Any more than what you see
What you see
See
A sea
A sea
A sea of complexity
Complexity
And me
Me, wishing
I had a we
But nonetheless I am

And I write
And will write

Because though I am not a poet
I am me

And my words
Will find someone
Even if
It’s myself finding
…. eM



So yeah, there ya go. I know some of them are a bit rough… and some are not as thought out as they could have been. But hopefully you can glean something for this.

Cheers!!!!

I think the excess christmas heat has finally got to his brain...

So indeed it is 2 days after Christmas, and I have spent the last 4 days wishing that I had had the foresight to pack at least one pair of shorts.. But who does that. I mean when you check the weather and it’s a consistent average temperature of 40m you figure it’s gonna stay that way…. Enter the panhandle of Florida’s mood-swing climate… And helloooo schizo-weather… Nonetheless, it has given me a good chance to get to the beach. (One of those perks of living in Florida.)

I believe that everyone has a place where everything slips away, a place where they can forget and just have an ounce of freedom. For some it may be on a sports field, others a stage or some a quiet room… But for me it’s the beach, more specifically in the water. It’s my escape if you will. Nothing else matters while I’m out there. Not the stresses of life. Not the frustrations of the opposite sex (no offense ladies). Not a care in the world, it’s just me and my board, and the waves… and if I’m lucky sometimes God stops by for a chat or two.

It was on such an occasion that I came up with these thoughts. While sitting out in the water on a recent surf trip, I started thinking. I had to get past the initial thoughts of OHH MY GODDD I’M FREEZING!!!! And then I was clear to get to the really good stuff.
While I was waiting on the next set of good waves to roll in, I started thinking about surfing and I decided that surfing is a lot like 2 things in this life… Sex and God. Since it’s probably not the best idea to go into both of those in the same blog, I’ll let you think of all the possible sexual references and implications surfing may make and I’ll stick to the God analogy….

So before I send myself to hell… I’m just gonna jump into this thing. The thing about surfing is, it’s not just a matter of are you in shape and can you stand up on the board, a multitude of factors come into play. What is the ocean doing, are you in the right spot, are you riding the right board, etc. So in short, it’s not just knowing what to do, it’s about knowing how to handle all the changes that the ocean can bring your way, and still ride the wave out successfully. And with that, if the wave decides to close out and throw you for a loop, you have to have the determination to get out there and try it again….

I hope that you can kinda see where this is going…

In life I feel like we strive so hard to be in that just right spot for everything to work out so perfectly, yet if any of you are like me, you always find yourself inches away in the perfectly just barely wrong spot. And it is so frustrating because you see everyone who found that perfect spot in their life and are riding it to the fullest while you’re getting trounced because you were just off. So you strive and work so hard to get in the spot where you saw people finding fulfillment, yet again it proves to be that just barely wrong spot and again you get trounced. And this cycle repeats a few times. You may even think you hit it just perfect only to have the bottom fall out from under you and again you are back at square one. And each time this cycle repeats it gets harder and harder to convince yourself to get up and try again. But if you wanna succeed you have to.

In the end you usually find yourself looking up to the sky and begging God for a little help. And believe it or not relief usually comes. Sometimes not right when you want it, but I think God knows when we need that boost of confidence to get us through a hardship in our lives and help us keep fighting the good fight.

I hope that maybe some of this made sense, they say to write about what you know… so that’s what I’m doing. Keep fighting the good fight, and never stop striving to live the life that you know will bring you true fulfillment. I leave you with lyrics from Jack’s Mannequin that always kind of pick me up and I think they relate well to this…..


You gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth

The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open yeah
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
Swim

You gotta swim
For nights that won’t end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers and friends
Yeah, you gotta swim
For wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed is a flaw

The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open yeah
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
But I'm not giving in
Swim

You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's an ocean to drift in
Feel the tide shifting away from the spark
Yeah you gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just follow the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love

Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim