About Chris Brewer

My most recent work and biography is at http://chrisbrewer.me (my home page, by the way).Chris Brewer has worked in both industry and academia for years at the intersection of information systems and communications. His background is in areas ranging from technical consulting with Fortune 500 companies, developing award-winning web sites, publishing the Denver Scene, and operating small business concerns. Chris has a unique mix of in-depth technical skills ranging from web and database development to server administration, and strong creative skills in traditional and rich media. Chris actively illustrates his love for the impact and promise of web-based media by fusing creative and technical inputs into seamless integrated output. Chris is also a dynamic lecturer and an innovative technical instructor, and holds an undergraduate business degree from the University of Colorado.

Can’t sleep

Can’t sleep. This is tougher than I imagined. I think I’m losing it, actually. I haven’t slept well now for about a week.

I’ve sold our home, moved my wife and three kids to a rental home in Colorado Springs. It’s tough on everyone, leaving our home of six years. Right now, I’m not even sure why I’ve done it.

But, Charita (my wife) and I are both enrolled in college full time this semester. Guess that’s why.

I’m getting ahead of myself. After all, you don’t even know the whole story. Or any of it, for that matter.

It started in mid-January, for all intents, when I quit my $75,000 a year job at BearingPoint, an international tech consulting firm. I’d worked there for just over two years, during the thick of the tech downturn. Seems like I’m bragging a bit here, but with purpose — I actually managed to be promoted during this time to Senior Consultant while many at BearingPoint and industry wide endured layoffs. I only bring this up to illustrate that I was a compentent and valuable member of my group, which is an important distinction to make in the context of what happened.

Next step

I’ve decided to enroll at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. Here’s my letter of application:

I am a 34 year old man on a mission, one half of a husband-wife team intent on changing our lives. Neither my wife nor I have a Bachelor’s degree, and eight years into rearing our three children, we’ve come to understand that living an example is the best method for raising confident, independent, honest children.

There are many reasons upon which I could hinge a letter of application. This one, however, rings truest and matters most.

As a young man, I was full of spit and fire, and was too quick to start my life as an adult, which I equated with drawing a paycheck. I passed up a multitude of educational opportunities that came with being a National Honor Student with ACT scores in the top 3% nationally. I jumped feet-first into life, and my eyes quickly turned away from my earlier goals of obtaining a degree in engineering.

The next 17 years were spent pursuing a number of seemingly unrelated interests, including obtaining two Associate’s Degrees. During this time, I founded and ran several businesses, including a regional entertainment newspaper and an Internet development company. Additionally, I sang professionally in an award-winning original band, and taught technology to children in grades Kindergarten through eighth grade at a local elementary school.

Three years ago I turned my back on this rather Renaissance approach, and began pursuing a career as a UNIX systems administrator in the corporate world. It was during this time, when my creative spirit was kept at bay, that I came to realize the powerful need within me to invent and build. It dawned on me that the very structure of my being is grounded in the quest for knowledge, which serves as the framework for my inventive output.

And so, 17 years later, I find myself at the beginning again. I’ve firmly made the choice to illustrate to my children, to my wife, and to myself that it is never too late to chart one’s own course. I have resigned my position at the company where I was employed, and with this letter, am staking my claim on the knowledge I will gain from attending your university.

Thank you for the opportunity to apply.

Best,

Chris Brewer

The beginning

Here’s how it all started, with an email to my new direct supervisor and her boss. My new boss was on a tear to build an empire, and had began a systematic process of tearing apart the group, in order to replace my hard-working coworkers with her cronies. How sad: We were a well-oiled machine that had brought our datacenter from the non-perfoming to a top facility. I was her first target. Though I had several years of excellent reviews, winning promotions even amidst the crumbling of the tech revolution and its many layoffs and dismissals, she began an unrelenting attack on my character and skills that lasted three months. Finally, I couldn’t take it any more:

-----Original Message-----
From: Chris Brewer [mailto:xxxxxx@yahoo.com]
Sent: Tuesday, January 14, 2003 8:37 AM
To: xxxxxxxx@bearingpoint.net; xxxxxxxx@bearingpoint.net
Subject: Resignation

My FY03 mid-year performance review contains false statements
and misstatements of fact by manager, [Name Withheld],
which tarnish my reputation and cast doubt upon my character.
Her defamatory accusations are not borne of fact.

[Name Withheld], my Managing Director, has accepted her
review without seeking my input, even though in past reviews
I received high ratings which resulted in a promotion. Ms.
[Name Withheld]'s review contains comments which run directly
counter to my efforts and accomplishments of the past and
present. Ms. [Name Withheld] draws her conclusions from a
total of 3 months with BearingPoint.

No person, regardless of the state of the US economy, should
have to endure unsubstantiated claims and slanderous
allegations by a hostile manager. I therefore have no
alternative than to submit my immediate resignation.

Christopher Brewer

Word Search

In the sun of the desert sky
In the dirt that blows in my eye
I searched my life for you

In the palms of my father’s hands
In the borders that police no man’s land
I searched the lines for you

In the mean and cold places, wrinkled faces, brutal races
at the bases of mesas and in cases where embraces replace spaces
I searched what’s right for you

In the ash where embers once glowed
In the paths that my sisters sowed
In the breeze of my mind’s delight
In the warmth of my lovers light
In the bones of the beasts I eat
flesh of this craft, into submission beat
I worked this night for you

Voodoo (and concerned with black hair)

No-one mentions Athel trees
Or the hamburger sand there
Blown in sheets
Jerusalem ought to choke rock sales
Voodoo (and concerned with black males)

Save the bullheads from the plot
Pocketed bullets from the sailor’s lot
Some burned pigs, wandering, lost there
Tooth marked (and concerned with welfare)

Mark the boundary with weeds
Buried treasure, in walls, unseen
But with destruction, uncovered
Voodoo (our time there discovered)

No-one mentions Athel trees
And the fact that they don’t have
any leaves
Why do I want to go back there?
Voodoo (and concerned with what’s bare)

Pare thin sentence from wry thought
Filter sand from these dry locks
Nestled tightly in his breath
Lies (the truth, adjacent depth)

Extracted vassal of the Rock
Shorn in lands without a flock
Consumed and sculpted by child’s care
Voodoo (and concerned with black hair)

Mojave Knew

For Melissa

Still, like the drifting desert sand Mojave knew.
Dull, as the rusting cars there stand, Mojave blued.
Eyes, wide open, tears run.
Wild!
Try. Try. Try. She’s never coming home.

What was I thinking when you were sinking?
(Where was my head? Where were my hands? Where was my heart?)
Traded them in on pieces of tin.
(What did you do? What did you do? What did you do?)

Hold me, heaving, scold me.
Tired, torn, buck-toothed and dead
Break me (I’m tired) take me
This, the end.

Disown me — hostile zone me.
Railroad tie me to my bed.
Break me, desert, shape me.
Break me, desert rape me.
Break me, desertscape.
Mojave knew me then.

Slight, like the scent of Grandville’s ground; Mojave Jew.
Gaunt as the lizard skins we found; Mojave bruised.
Guise an omen: near spanned miles!
Try Try Try. She never got control.

What was I thinking when you were sinking?
(Where was my head? Where were my hands? Where was my heart?)
Traded them in on pieces of tin.
(And what did you do? What did you do? What did you do?)

Hold me, heaving, mold me.
Tired, torn, buck-toothed and dead
Break me (I’m so tired) take me
This, the end.

Disown me — hostile zone me.
Railroad tie me to my bed.
Break me, desert, take me.
Break me, desertscape me.
Break me, desert-raped.
Mojave new me then.

You

You’ve spent the last seven years
Trying to be the part
Not the person

Why?

You love to like
The need to leave but
Cannot face the need to be

Free.

So hope becomes the frailest fortress
Around the slightest of these vain things
That, elitist brother
feeds your pleasure

Breathe.

Claw Hammer

For Rush

Draggin’ my ass from Kansas City
Looking for a quick score, a ride and some pity
No luck with the pity hunt, just a ride from this stuck up cunt
And of all places, she kicked me out here.

So I wander the alleys of this piss of a town
Except for one, lights off at midnight all around
Just need a car or truck or some kind dumb luck
Got to get away from Kansas City.

Late night summer knock
Occupant opens the door
Claw hammered forehead
Retarded on the floor.

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Swoop and then thud
Handle drips blood

Father asleep in the back
Didn’t hear the first hammer attack
Lay there dreaming of God knows what
Lobotomized that sleeping fuck

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Swoop and then thud
Handle drips blood

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Yah yah yah. It’s the Stanley cup of home improvement.

Cherry

I don’t know how a cherry tree relates to me
Especially now that I don’t have one in my yard anymore.
The only one I ever planted was small and thin and desperate to grow.
I haven’t seen it since I sold out for a taste of something “better”.

Most of the trees I’ve planted since then were mature —
Strong, healthy specimens that cost a pretty penny.
They all started to die after the first winter.
I cut them down into two foot long pieces for the trash man.

I don’t know if the Cherry Tree I planted
Provides fruit to its admirers or shades their surroundings.
But I know it reminds me of my first child crawling in the grass
Towards me as I planted it in the lawn so many years ago.