A Work Dream and an Iggy Pop Song with a Shared Single Interpretation

I don’t remember the last time a dream was such a clear personal metaphor. And I’ve never had one kick my ass.

Last night’s dream was nearly a nightmare, despite being free from threats of violence or grisly horror scenes. It sewed deep discomfort through spare details and a twisted fish-out-of-water setting. It was my first day with a new employer, I was working in an office again, and no one had a computer at their desk.

If there’d been an orientation or training, it was in a previous, forgotten dream installment. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. I sat at my desk, surrounded by other desks and employees (in dreaded “open workspace” arrangement), and snuck glances at my neighbors for clues on what action items I should be actioning on. No one offered to help me settle in. No one looked at me. 

A coffee-table-sized book lay open before me. I flipped its pages back and forth, seeking some context for my job duties. The words and paragraphs meant nothing to me.

I searched the desktop for anything familiar—a pen, a notebook, a coffee cup—but there was only my large book. I tried to study its blocks of copy but could glean nothing. Needles of panic began stabbing me.

I turned to the person stationed to my right and dared a question: “Is reading this book my job?”

The other employee, a nondescript man, shot me an impatient look and turned back to his book. He also said something—his mouth clearly carved the words—but I heard no voice. He spoke again while turning a page, but made no sound.

Across the room, someone walked between workstations with their big book clutched like a satchel. I debated going to them and asking the same question. Then two others: Where’s my computer? Shouldn’t I be writing something? But my panic was now immobilizing, its needles pinning me to my chair.

Then I woke up.

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I've thought a lot about work lately. About what I’m contributing. How I’m growing professionally (or not). What I’m writing. What I’m not. How my career trajectory looks.

I could rhapsodize on these topics, but there’s no need now. My dream made it undeniable: I’m feeling lost and useless. I have to wake up and find my way, find intention. I have to find the words that can lead me to more writing, more work. (And income, can’t forget that minor point.)

Fittingly, writing the words above brought to mind a few lines penned and sung-spoken by Iggy Pop in “Paraguay,” off his 2016 Queens of the Stone Age collaboration Post Pop Depression:

There’s nothing awesome here

Not a damn thing, there’s nothing new

Just a bunch of people scared

Everybody’s fucking scared

Fear eats all the souls at once

Iggy paints a pretty nightmarish picture here, and his brushstrokes only get darker, and snarlier, as the song chugs to its furious shouted conclusion. 

Like my dream, there’s a single clear message in “Paraguay.” The dreamer/writer/character in both worlds needs to take action, to grow. To get hustling. Iggy’s solution is to literally walk away from everything and find solace and direction elsewhere—“I’m gonna go heal myself now.”

My solution? TBD, but waking up is an essential part of the equation. Here’s to 2025.

One Thing I Know: I Wrote the Book on Pearl Jam's Vs.

When Pearl Jam’s second album was released, I was just starting college and had no idea what I was going to do with my life—or, more fundamentally, who I was or what I wanted to be.

Twenty-seven years later, I have a pretty solid feel for those things. Still haven’t woken up one morning to realize I was living the life I'd been aiming for, but how often does that really happen? I’m not doing nearly as much writing as I’d like at the day job, and not doing enough on my own time, either, but I’m still steering my ship. Still harboring dreams. Still able to string a few words together when I get the chance (and thankful for every opportunity). And as of today, this little book exists that proves it.

Feels weird, but I guess I can call myself an author now.

I’ve also written a few supplemental pieces that publisher Bloomsbury is posting on their blog next week. They may be right up your alley if you’re a glutton for PJ-related punishment, and the blog is a good place to start if you’re curious what the 33 1/3 series is all about.

With this work now in the rearview, I hope to forge ahead on other extracurricular writing this year. Right now, I’m feeling fiction, but we’ll see. One day I may wake with an urge to do something else larger-scale around music. There’s so much there I’d happily dive into. And if I do start to feel the ship turning of its own accord, or stalling out, or listing, I’ll read the latest of my son’s works. Kid’s already got the writing bug.

I won’t change direction, and I won’t change my mind.

From Furlough to Freelance & Oddball to Author

I don’t typically air private stuff or participate in self-promotion, but it’s a bizarro world. Norms are out the window. I have a couple of significant professional/personal developments to report—one not so good, one way better—so I’m going to temporarily step outside of my comfort zone and report them.

The first is hardly unique in this epic disaster of a year: I’ve been furloughed from my role at Health Perspectives Group. Perhaps all too predictably, the patient engagement business has slowed due to the fact that people aren’t exactly able to engage in person these days. Budget cuts, business shifts—it’s the atonal yet catchy chorus of 2020. I may get the job back (and that would be wonderful; I’ve really enjoyed my time there), but I’m not holding my breath.

What I am doing is considering a serious run at freelance work. I’ve done a lot of it in past years, of course, but not previously pressed fully into the effort, pitched for work, etc. Now it may be time to look through/beyond my immediate colleagues and contacts and pursue work through a platform like Upwork. Maybe.

I’m methodically feeling it out, as that’s my nature. I’m open to suggestion, persuasion, cautionary tales, all of the above.

The second piece of news is about as far away on the Crap <—> Kick-Ass spectrum as you can get: my book on Pearl Jam’s Vs., a volume in Bloomsbury’s 33 1/3 series, has a publish date. Yes, on March 11, 2021, you too can pore over the fiery, pointed, brilliant record that I’ve pored over for the last 18 months or so.

Or is it more like 25+ years? Back then, my enthusiasm for the Pacific Northwest-carved guitar-rock style labeled “grunge” struck people as odd. My long hair, my flannel, my thermal underwear under shorts. It was arid California, after all. And I didn’t play a guitar (or anything else). Didn’t even know anyone who did. Well! The era (and my hair) may be long gone, but my appreciation of the music (and flannel) continues. And you can pre-order the proof from Bloomsbury and Amazon. (Up yours, Imposter Syndrome.)

Here’s hoping we’re all still around in spring of 2021 and have a few hours to spare for pleasure reading.

In the meantime, I’ve got more writing to do. Let me know if I can do any for you.

A Season of (Writing) Growth

The first day of spring seems a fitting time to mention a couple of major updates on my career. First, I’m writing a non-fiction book. Second, my day job is no longer straight marketing. In the former respect, I’m writing what I know, for a built-in audience. In the latter, I’m doing something I know next to nothing about, in an attempt to finally contribute—and I’m really excited about both opportunities to grow.

The book? A 33 1/3 volume on Pearl Jam’s Vs. If you know anything about me, you also know that my proposal being selected by the series’ publisher, Bloomsbury, is a huge honor. Though I’m contractually obligated to deliver the book, it still feels more daydream than reality. Me writing about a band I’ve loved since high school? Yeah, that’s a dream. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t major challenges in the work (not the least of which is carving out time to pen it), and it doesn’t mean my Vs. book is going to be a love letter. No, this is not fanboy stuff; it’s what I hope readers will agree is compelling scholarly reflection on a record that made a legendary band what it is today. It’s going to take a while, but I believe it’ll be worth the wait.

Speaking of waiting, I’ve been wondering how I might use my one solid skill to truly better others’ lives for years now. (Not coincidentally, the thoughts began nagging me shortly after my dad’s passing.) I’ve loved writing marketing copy all along, but selling social features and cell phones and investing tools and restaurant menu items was cultivating diminishing returns. So: now for something completely different.

Today I started at Health Perspectives Group. It’s a patient advocacy organization that helps people with serious health conditions make better-informed decisions about their pharmaceutical options. At least, that’s how I understand it after one shift. There’s a ton I don’t know about what they do, but it’s clear that they care about people and their well-being. And my contribution—consultation scripts, email, print materials—could help some of those people live better lives. Maybe that’s romanticizing it a bit, but HPG’s mission is one I believe in, and I hope to give patients who engage with them simple, clear information about their options… while I learn a whole bunch myself.

It’s going to be a busy spring. Here’s hoping there’s a bountiful harvest in the months and years that follow.