NEW POST ZOMG

Gronn (2011, p. 437), like Bligh, seems to decry traditional views of leadership scholarship, and issues a call to ‘…eschew the normative typologizing.’ Bligh (2011, p. 426), for her part, mocks followership research that attempts to emulate long-since discounted approaches to trait-theory, referring to the treatment of the ‘undifferentiated mass’ that hearkens to Taylor’s scientific management principles. In terms of identifying potentially new dimensions to their approaches, which both call for greater interaction, such as Bligh’s active-followership (p. 426) and Gronn’s interdependence (cited by Bligh herself, p. 427) there are age-old precedents within dyadic relationships where the power differential is seen as necessary, welcomed by both parties and an avenue towards power reversal. 

 Please don't read the above and think I am the same person I was a year ago, or even this morning. Please don't judge my liberal application of APA principles, because it is just an excerpt from a message board and not a formal paper. Please don't think just because I am never writing here that I am not writing anywhere because I spend 18 hours a day writing, it's just not real writing, not what I really want to say. I'm not even a grant writer anymore, even though I have written (I won't put the figure here, because it's obscene and will seem like humble-brag puke) amount of dollars this year. I am not the same person I was this morning, god help us, and I won't be the same person tomorrow either. I miss my old life, unfocused and unpurposeful as it was. I miss reading Richard Brautigan and feeling sorry for myself and being hypervain and intentionally obscure as I once was. I traded it all for a title and a future that I could be proud of. I am a cliche.

Vahid sent me a book which I started and loved and now I don't know where it's at. I went to his website and it's occupied by some real estate squatters. We lost our lottery this year for the enchantments and I have a co-worker who likes to hike, but I just can't join him because it's painful like remembering the time I took my dog to the vet for the forever sleep shot. There are fires out east and sunshine out west, but I tried a camping trip on Ketron Island and came home miserable and eager to finish a paper or purchase requisition or employee evaluation, I forget.

There is a bird called the Swainson's thrush that has a song you probably recognize, but you never see the little warbler because it hides among the canopy, and he sings every night, such a beautiful lament, and humans have no equivalent because anyone that talented would die to be seen. I envy that power, the ability to call your tribe and have them come to you and live your whole life a mystery to the world. The Audubon society says it's not a threatened species, and I totally buy it, the little bastard probably isn't threatened by anything, not even self-doubt.

I'm happy, too, which absolutely kills me, because I never wanted that for myself. We took our kids to Las Vegas, and when the plane went through turbulence, I turned to be their brave face and they were giggling over some game on their portable device. WHAT IF THEY DON'T NEED ME? WHO WILL NEED ME?

You guys should see me now, my hair is so gray! and my eye crease is so chasmic! and my far off gaze is so undocumented! But as I said, you can't see me, because I no longer exist.

And my dreams! Oh christ, we climb mountains, and weep at our departures, and dress up like cowboys, and bump elbows under moonlit elm trees. Those criminals who never got caught come back in the next life like all those thrushes, I think. I wonder what they look like, if they look like anything at all.