Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 5 "Breathing Room"

My dreams are becoming more real as of late. My ability to discern between fantasy and reality lessens and the lines between the two become blurry. I have woken up many times, wondering if what happened the night before was real. It felt real, I felt conscious, I felt awake, albeit a little drowsy.
It wasn’t long after my previous day dream, the one where the man in alley looked at me and said I wasn’t one of them, whatever that meant, that these surreal dreams started happening. In these dreams, nothing bad happens. I hear a noise in my house and walk around it with my guard up like a south paw boxer. What made it different from normal dreams was that I could feel the carpet on my toes, I could hear the fish thank gurgling, my dad snoring. The detail was too real. Other dreams were more like watching a movie where things happen and the actors are talking directly to the camera.
At first, these dreams were harmless and seemingly pointless. Most were of me wandering around my house, the yard, or my own room. Occasionally I would be at a friend’s house, but they were never up. I would ask my parents the next morning if they heard me walking around the house last night, and they promptly said that they hadn’t.
Was my mind getting the better of me? Was I going mental? Did I have some condition? Thank you universe for the internet and the creation of webmd! The closest thing that I could come up with was a REM sleep behavior disorder. Usually with REM, the muscles becomes slight paralyzed through the brain is as active as it is when you are awake. What ends up happening is that the individual acts out their dream. There body moves as they move in their dream. As I understood, that meant that the person would be seeing one thing in his or her mind, but acting out in the real world.
The exact cause of RBD is unknown, webmd said, except for those who had serious illnesses like Parkinson’s or were coming off of hypnotic-sedative withdrawal (whatever that was) and anti-depressants. I wasn’t on any medication and my health was fine. I was almost certain that I had RBD. Then I got a phone call from my best friend on the other side of town.
Last night, I had another surreal dream that I had gone over to visit him. He had filled his hot tub on the back porch and with my unexpected visit, asked if I would want to join him in a quick dip. I agreed to it, changed into a spare swimsuit he had. While in the hot tub, I know I jabbed at him, asking if he was the one who put the money in it and where he was working. He remarked that the servants, which he often called his parents, had done most of the installation and it would be taken out of their pay.Then I woke up.
“Hey man, what’s up?” I said.
“Not much. Just sayin’ that was pretty awesome of you to stop by last night! We should do stuff like that more often?”
“You mean… the hot tub?”
“Yeah man, that! On a school night too of all things! Gave us time to talk without worrying about homework and junk.”

I hung up the phone.
It wasn’t a dream. It was real. But why did it feel like a dream? I had some control over what I did, but as dreams are, it was unnatural, like being on autopilot except for emergencies.
Something was wrong.

I woke up a second time. My neck and face were covered in sweat. It was still dark outside. I pinched my cheek, and feeling pain, assumed I was awake. The movie “Inception” came to mind and I had wondered what exactly happened. The research on the internet and the phone call from a friend, it was just a dream. I couldn’t recall when I started researching or how I got to the computer. I did remember laying down the night before, but how did I know about RBD?

I opened my laptop and checked my search history. Webmd.com was on the list with a search heading of RBD. I checked my phone. My friend had called me and the call only lasted thirty seconds. There were two other missed calls after that.
I did the only thing any sensible teenage boy would do. I went upstairs and knocked on my parent’s door.

“Mom? Can I talk to you? I think I’m sick.”

Primer #4

I suppose that my life’s ambition is be greater than what I see myself as currently. I have been told multiple times that I have a great capacity for many a talent. I have crossed myself in my endeavors to better them. In business, you take time, money, resources, and invest them into a project and expect a return on your investment. Outside of this, or inside of this, are many talents, ones of which I feel flustered over because either, I am not good enough to make a living off of them, or I don’t know how to use them properly. The real question is, why invest time in talents if I will not receive a benefit for them? I need to have joy in the doing. Why do I write books? Because I enjoy it!
It is a love-hate relationship because as I put to pen the words in my head, I am please with the fluidity in which they appear on the page. I am flustered though because even as I write the words, I know they are not good enough to capture the moment, the essence, the emotion, the vision that I have for that story. I see in my mind, how the story should go, the specific, tenuous details that add to the emotion, the raw terrific emotion of the moment, and I know that the words I put down are not good enough. I continue to write over and over and over again, in hopes of achieving that goal, of reaching that summit where I can look back on my work, and say as the Great Creator said, “It is good.”
And even if that event is achieved, who is to say that it will be liked? Who is to say that a living could be made off of it? Who is to say that it will be successful? There are some who had taken NYT bestselling books, and re-submitted them, and been rejected by the same publishers that published them. The truth of the matter is, no one knows what will be successful in the market place. As this is the case, there are only two things that make or break a published book: You! Luck! I will do all that I can to succeed, to be true to the art, the muse, the story in my head, the characters, the powers at be. I will honor the story I write, in hopes that it will honor me with luck. And if I fail, than I blame myself for the lack of success by which the work wrought.

Let ink and pen be had!
Let parchment and tablet be found!
Let the lyric and its sonnet,
and the rose colored word find its way into my hands.
Let it begin,
Lo! the artist awakes
The pen strikes the parchment as a sword to a dragon’s chest
The story unfolds, the muse,
She whispers

Primer #3

Too much to do and not enough time to do it in is a common phrase spoken by many, lived by many, but understood only by few.

When we are given tasks, assignments, projects and homework in school, they tell you it will prepare you for the life journey ahead withe a future employer. We are programmed from our youth up to expect our selves to do everything and have everything be done at the end of the day else we will fail, and we consider ourselves as that specific failure.

Heaven forbid any of us should feel so...

Between individual cultures, needs, environments, perceptions, paradigms, realities, parallel realities, imagined realities, and what actually needs to get done, only one truth remains... proper prioritization to proficient problem solving.

Harvard came out with a style, emphasized by S.R. Covey on 7 Habits, and utilized within the work force. For me, and possibly others, the clash still exists within the soul, the student, the academic that resides in the far recesses of my brain to go our and destroy each task to precision. A sense of urgency develops, a tense feeling tingles across the epidermis each morning, resulting in shivers, shakes, and all together nauseousness at eight.

Before hand it was a grade... now it is a career.

Forthcoming I must be, and realize that unlike formal education, there is one aspect that I have yet to grasp and ascertain, and that is the human element, the soft science, the art of manipulation, randomization, luck, and more importantly, taking time to sip on a preferred beverage of choice.

What may be seen as a most didactic moment, such that if not embraced, would lead to my downfall, evaporates into the hours and a fruit grows. This fruit is a positive result, nurtured with panic, stress, anxiety, more stress, a few gray hairs, and an altogether ol' fashioned American know how.

When the direction is set, and the benefit is seen, proven, and appreciated by one, the rest will follow like sheep to new pasture, or lemmings to their fall.

Take care and mind your step and realize, you only have to open the gate to success, others will follow.

Next time on Primer: The difference between problem solving and goal achieving.

Primer Part 2

I have made a decision in my writing career...


Come to an almost certain conclusion...

And it most definitely involves current circumstances within my professional life



The decision is this: One day, I am going to write a book about how and why MRO management is pertinent from the low level line worker to the CEO.



The almost certain conclusion is that management books (at least ones that I have read) that involve an analogy of some kind (Ice Cream Maker, High 5, Leadership and Self-Deception for example) are (in my opinion) bland as a story.

Perhaps it is the preach-I-ness (I meant to spell it that way) of a fake business, with a fake problem implementing a proposed real solution that works in other businesses and will work in yours.



I am glad that Good to Great concepts work for your management team and that your business (if you have implemented the principles) has experienced a complete 180 in terms of communication and professional development, resulting increase sales, profit, employee retention, market share, product quality and every other metric we hold ourselves to, live and die by.



For the rest of us who may not experience the change in culture or financial direction from a 115 to 280 page booklet on management choices, perhaps the problem isn't knowledge, and perhaps the problem isn't what we think or believe it to be at all.



Perhaps this young buck see's another problem all together, and maybe, just maybe, it can't be solved with a clever proverb wrapped up in business principles and endorsed by Steven Covey. Perhaps 7 Habits works for you, perhaps it doesn’t.



Not all problems can be solved by business books on fake business and people. Perhaps, as a culture, we are unsure as to what true principles of leadership are or are too afraid to apply them. The point is this: to be successful, we have to look at the actual problem, the actual disease, not the symptoms.



Is your business not being successful because you have too much overhead? Are your products not being sold because the perceived quality in the market place is not where you would like it to be? Are you attacking travel and expense budget control, when the real problem is mudda and re-run on the production floor? Are you focusing on cutting cost, when your target market is way off of a profitable track? Do you have a profitable market base, but your not focusing on cutting costs?



We cannot leave root cause analysis up to the plants and production floors in order to be successful.



Back to my decision. I can write a short business book on management of MRO, preventative maintenance and how it will help an organization, wrap it up in a cute story about a made mega million company learning from a small auto-shop that a next door neighbor runs, and sell a few thousand companies. OR I can write an exceptional story about a real company whose name has been changed and how management of preventative maintenance and MRO contracts resulted in more up time, better quality, and all around better products and margins, leading an organization to greater levels of success...



More to come...

Primer Part 1

I am 26 years old and I know what I want to be when I grow up,


but I don’t know when to grow up

but I know what I should be

Spiritually, mentally, emotionally speaking



I understand my role and duty

Temporal considerations yields only ambiguity



Who I love is clear

What I love is transparent

Where I work is a Monster who is Really Out of control!



I can see where improvements can be made

The process akin to extracting the supernumerary molars without administration of an anesthetic ... while recovering with a glass of sodium chloride diluted in vinegar

and exchanging morphine for a placebo supplement



Hypothesis: man chooses path of least resistance.



To myself I must be just and attempt to fail to disprove the desires of following the path my feet will most likely trod…



God willing

Primer for Prose: Intro

I have learned, that my ability to write, and the way I write is like an old well pump. How deep is this well you ask?

That is irrevelant...

I just like the taste of the water.

For this ol' hand pump to work, it must be primed. Water must be pour down the spicket to allow the sweet fresh water to be drawn up.

Hence the title.

Each day, befor I write, I will put to paper a poem. These poems will be my primer, and will be placed on this blog under a section, or title of "Primer for Prose".

I do not intend for them to be of any value, or by any rate publishable by traditional means, but what I do intend to do is use this as a tool to make the most out of my treasured novels.

Let the priming begin:

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 4

The kingdom of the three brothers, Rinehart, Aodhan and Amon, ruled well. Their three armies defended their shores from the godless invaders of the east, and the heathen of the south. It was told in all foreign lands that their armies were given a fever and lust for blood as never before seen among any warrior or band. Their determination to serve their king and land, their loyalty to their families and soil, were traits only wished for and sung about.

A decade of peace followed the invasions, and many nations paid tribute to the kingdom and clan of the three brothers. Together, Rinehart and Aodhan journeyed out to conquer more lands, to expand their empire, to amass more wealth, and acquire more subjects under their power. Amon, on the other hand, stayed behind and handled the internal affairs of the kingdom. Here was their greatest fall.

While the two older brothers conquered, Amon was left to the castle to plot. He did not plot with councilors, or under a secret band with signs and passwords, but within the great library. Book after book was read, tome after tome was opened and shut, scroll after scroll unrolled and rolled, candle after candle was melted. He searched for the history of the kingdom, of other kingdoms, of ancient kingdoms, and of politics. His kingdom, the one shared among three brothers, was not the first to occur in its fashion, and the endings were all similar. Brother was pitted against brother, army against army, and not long after the victor slew his own flesh and blood, another kingdom, baited by weakness and fatigue, would lay waste to an inheritance.

There would be no hope to preserve his kingdom, or to save his people, unless he could change history and forge an early peace among the brothers. Ideas swam through his mind of separating the brothers through the power of their conquest, but in each scheme, Amon saw his brothers pitted against each other as to who ruled who. As long as there was power, there would be corruption.

Upon return from their three year conquest, Rinehart and Aodhan shared liberally their spoils with their younger brother. Amon accepted their gold, jewels, ornaments and other treasures and invited them to a feast. A spread of goose, stag, boar, and beef was laid upon the table with bread and the season’s freshest crops. An old keg of ale was tapped and the barley brew was divided among them.  

Towards the middle of the feast, when the brothers and their captains were at their second helping of meat, and on their fifth mug of ale, Amon stood and called for attention.

“To my brothers, these spoils be,” he cried. The group applauded and cheered in reply. “But to this end I ask you, are you yet equal in your conquest? Will you still look at each other as one, brother to brother, eye to eye? Or will you subvert this kingdom by allowing pride to take seed within your heart? I see it now within you Rinehart and Aodhan. There is a gleam within your eye that speaks the truth of your soul. The kingdom is already lost, for neither of you will yield to my words.” As he spoke, both brothers stayed focused on him, lowering their heads slightly to take an awkward drink as to not may eye contact with the other. “Let go your foolish pride my brothers. Is not your conquest enough? Is not this spoil enough? Is not the love and adoration of your people enough? Is not the fear and terror of other nations enough? Is not the word of your brother enough to stay your hand against one another? Be still, take heart, and reflect upon the words of our father. If you do not, it will not be before winter's end when this kingdom will fall and its people placed under the rule of another.”

When Amon finished speaking, he sat down. The rest of the feast was had in silence, though an unheard anger brewed against Amon for his words. Neither Rinehart nor Aodhan spoke to defend against what was said against them, for it was truth. They knew it, but did not fear it.