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Maybe I'm a radical
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I completed Phase 12 of my Sprint Towards Nowhere campaign that is 2020. Yesterday I did my last public event for the year, a panel for Impact.Engineered on which I spoke about social innovation, non-profits and the inherently social economic structure that is a cooperative. I was sitting on the panel with a VP from IBM and a Sr Mgr from Red Hat. They were both completely lovely, but the moderator kept poking my inside activist, literally saying "I want you to put your activist hat on for this next question" and so I kept blah blah blahhing about corporate bullshit.
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I was socially diplomatic, but I also said that companies can't just say they have certain values, they have to act as if they hold those values. I wasn't accusatory. I didn't say that I know both these companies have, for example, giant weapons contracts with evil af companies. I didn't talk about the conflicting tales told when a company actively supports both war and peace. I only barely ranted about capitalism.
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"People may not remember exactly what you did or what you said but they always remember how you made them feel, that’s what matters the most." -- Tony Hsieh
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Because cooperatives are worker owned, the engagement of the organization is an extension of each members motivation. A cooperative exists for the benefit of its members, rather than for the market as a whole. In a sense, a co-op might also function as a mini market, except that everyone has the same share. What this means though, that equality in ownership, is a forced balance of power. It means that conflicting values can cause a major ruckus.
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My internal conflict on what is "right" is a constant negotiation. If I want to speak truth to power, if I want to be the type of person who is "good", how "good" do I have to actually be? This struggle is one I've had for a very, very long time.
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"Right" and "Good" are in quotation marks because, in case you didn't know, these are subjective terms and there is no such thing as "Right" or "Good". 😱
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Maybe I'm nevermore
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The magpies come round every day. I didn't know these birds were "magpies", which is, to my mind, more of a concept then a species. I only knew the German name, Elster, and I had no real association to that name. The crows and ravens come round a lot as well. It all essentially means, as far as my imagination is concerned, that the conceptual vibe I have at home is currently: Nevermore. Nevermore will I venture into the unknown. Nevermore will I find my motivation or ambition. Nevermore will the sad exhaustion that beguiles 2020 fade into a happy contentment for the privilege of being alive.
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Or maybe I just read the Raven while looking for something else and am now influenced by the hypnotic tact of depressing poetry. How often do you revisit the words of your youth? How often do you read a story you know you are supposed to have read? Lolita is one of those books you feel you have to read and then you do and wish you hadn't. That book makes you wonder a whole mess of things about Nabokov. He was staunchly anti-racist but also kind of a chauvinist. He was a political radical but also kind of a conformist.
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Do you put art and literature in the same category? Or do you think writers and artists are two different things? Try to separate them in your mind and think about who gets which stereotypes. It's a game I play. Tortured writer, eccentric artist. Alcoholic hermit, alcoholic socialite.
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Maybe I need help?
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My clients hire all the crazy that is Laura (sometimes they do it on purpose even), and one of my projects this week required me to pull actual, intellectual inspiration from the Starbucks Unicorn thing, so here have a laugh > https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/subcultures/starbucks
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I'm winding down for the year, but I'm always eager to hear from you. I have zero plans for next year. I'll just wonder how you are. There's a pandemic, still, so I guess I'll just be here, on the other side of your screen, waiting for you to text me or email me or call me on the phone or send a carrier pigeon.
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You think I'm not talking about you. You think it's just a newsletter, not personal. But you'd be pretty damn surprised at how many of you run through my head when I write this thing. I think about the names on the list I don't know, the email addresses from cities and companies and hospitals and gmail. Lots of gmail. I google some of you sometimes. You, dear reader, are the only reason I'm still here.
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