Whoever said there was no such thing as a stupid question needs to come do my job for a day. Hell, not even a day, just come in on Monday morning and read through my inbox. Maybe I am slightly jaded...maybe I'm just pissed off that it is Monday... maybe it is Street Fair time again... regardless-I came in today to read a message filled with questions about exceptions to rules, because every vendor has some sort of special circumstance...yes, yes, you are incredibly unique and deserve my undivided attention because you sell jewelry and photography or soap and pottery so OBVIOUSLY the rules that apply to everyone else don't apply to you. Thousands of artists have applied before you and somehow managed to get that 'please include photographs of all items sold' means we want to see what kind of items you are selling... not that each item you are selling needs to be photographically catalouged with your application. Give me enough information to make a decision as to whether or not I should accept you, and where I will place you and then SHUT UP!!! You only hurt yourself by disclosing too much information.
Obviously these people have never shipped something across country... you know, you go to the post office- the lady behind the counter who hears a special story about how the rules need not apply at the rate of 10 'special cases' an hour asks-'Is there anything liquid or perishable in the package?'
and a formally too honest for your own good me says, 'Why yes, yes there is liquid in there...'
to which the lady responds 'Oh? What is the liquid?'
and I respond full of pride and honesty 'Wine'
Her eyebrows furrow and she exasperates 'WINE?! Oh no no no, you cannot ship wine'
And I walk out of the post office, pissed off at my terminal honesty, get in my car, drive to fed ex and ship the damned wine as olive oil as I should have in the first damned place.
I'm not advocating lying, I have as much disdain for lying as I do stupid questions, all I'm saying is that sometimes, maybe not telling someone everything is better for all parties involved... I don't need to know nor do I give a shit if you have a business partner, I also do not want to sift through 387 photos of your trinkets... just exercise some sort of discretion for crying out loud! None of us are ever remotely as important as we think we are... so, let's all get out from under the plague of terminal uniqueness that Mr. Rogers gave us and realize that we are more one grain of sand by the ocean than we are snowflakes falling from the sky. I am not unique, or special or even an individual, I fall into the herd mentality more often than I would like to admit... but, I admit it. Come on people, we can work together, as long as you get that you are not the only fish in the sea, my time is as precious to me as your handmade pine cone and buckeye necklaces are to you.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Hello Lover...
More homework today... I love learning, but between school and work and life as it is, sometimes all I want is an escape from the real world...I end up fantasizing about everyday occurrences in the metaphoric sense. Obviously spending so much time in the theoretical has definitely left me wanting... if only higher ed would recognize the merit of metaphor- I think it is an integral part of critical thinking...the ability to draw parallel where there is seemingly no similarity unless one dives beneath the surface....
Tonight it was the storm that rolled through, as I was lying in bed, in the dark it, occurred to me-storms are much like good lovers. There are so many elements to a storm that come together to create such an amazing symphony for the mind and body. The way the lightning penetrates a dark room, a relentless tease to the visual senses...flashing split second images lit in the most perfect way, such that your left yearning to experience another moment in that light.... the thunder that rumbles deep down, not the loud and jarring cracks, but more the intense reverberations that come when the storm is nearly on top of you...and then just as the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end- the rain...ahh, there is no sound as sweet as rain at night... the seductress of sleep, she patterns down on the windows and every drop lures the brain into an altered rhythmic state... and suddenly the storm and your mind are intertwined in this incredible dance...fast, slow, fast fast, slow- lightning, rain, lightning thunder, rain... and on and on as the storm travels through and your consciousness fades to a trance-like state, and your swept away to the land of dreams...I do love a good storm.
Tonight it was the storm that rolled through, as I was lying in bed, in the dark it, occurred to me-storms are much like good lovers. There are so many elements to a storm that come together to create such an amazing symphony for the mind and body. The way the lightning penetrates a dark room, a relentless tease to the visual senses...flashing split second images lit in the most perfect way, such that your left yearning to experience another moment in that light.... the thunder that rumbles deep down, not the loud and jarring cracks, but more the intense reverberations that come when the storm is nearly on top of you...and then just as the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end- the rain...ahh, there is no sound as sweet as rain at night... the seductress of sleep, she patterns down on the windows and every drop lures the brain into an altered rhythmic state... and suddenly the storm and your mind are intertwined in this incredible dance...fast, slow, fast fast, slow- lightning, rain, lightning thunder, rain... and on and on as the storm travels through and your consciousness fades to a trance-like state, and your swept away to the land of dreams...I do love a good storm.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Bliss in the Gray Area
So, I have been thinking about music lately...I think about it a lot really. It is an interesting and vast subject on so many levels. I think about what music means to me, what strikes me about a certain artist or song, what attracts me to different genres, how it can move me to tears or laughter, how certain notes can resonate right down in my soul. How, for every time in my life there has been an artist or album I identify with that particular time...how I attach memories and meaning to it. How one line or riff can take me to places in myself I had otherwise forgotten existed. That is pretty powerful. And I wonder-is it like this for everyone? Do each of us have a soundtrack to our lives?
I remember getting my bright yellow Walkman for Christmas, the kind that would switch the side of the tape with the switch of the button-and that was important since my parents would only allow me to purchase singles of such CRAZY artists as Gun's and Roses. From that moment on, I had headphones on everywhere I went!
I can't tell you what year this song or that album came out, but I could tell you in detail what I felt when I first heard it-because every time I hear it again it's like the first time...I was watching my favorite channel...cool T.V. last night and REM's Loosing My Religion came on... And I was instantly transported back to grades 6 and 7 when my own musical obsessions began to take hold. I had a dry erase board in my room and it was filled with artists and albums I wanted to buy-Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, REM, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Smashing Pumpkins, Hole, Everclear and later there was Goldfinger and Bad Religion, then Tool, the Deftones, Ani Difranco, Incubus- I could list them forever... I remember taking my well earned paper route money to buy my first stereo for my room, and going to the store as often as my parents would allow to get another album on my list. Going to my room was never a punishment because I would sit in there and listen to music for hours on end... I went to sleep with it on, I woke up with it on...I would sneek my headphones on the bus with me. I created my own world and found bliss within those notes...
I remember opening my first microphone and the big Sony professional headphones for my birthday-I had to have been all of eight maybe- and my dad set up a tape deck and I got a mixer, I would sing and record and there was a freedom of creativity there that I have not matched within myself since... the years went by and my self consciousness over took me and I stopped singing, except for in my car by myself, or ridiculously out of range with a few friends. I started writing a lot, and I got involved in the local music scene as a teenager. It has been amazing to witness other people's creative processes, glistening in the light of creation and collaboration... And then I think about how I stifled my own, I let fear extinguish that inner creative fire. For a time I stifled it all together, I quit listening to new music or taking an interest at all. But recently, in the last year or so, I have begun to re-open that musical file in my brain. I found that inspired feeling again and I want to figure out what to do with it... I think we all wander in the gray areas of life- we transition from one stage to another- and if we are not careful we loose the awareness of what it is that touches us deeply in our soul. The beauty of it is that if we are vigilant, we may wander, but we are never lost. That fire within your soul can be re kindled -like a phoenix rising up from the embers to re-emerge in a different and perhaps more amazing form...
I remember getting my bright yellow Walkman for Christmas, the kind that would switch the side of the tape with the switch of the button-and that was important since my parents would only allow me to purchase singles of such CRAZY artists as Gun's and Roses. From that moment on, I had headphones on everywhere I went!
I can't tell you what year this song or that album came out, but I could tell you in detail what I felt when I first heard it-because every time I hear it again it's like the first time...I was watching my favorite channel...cool T.V. last night and REM's Loosing My Religion came on... And I was instantly transported back to grades 6 and 7 when my own musical obsessions began to take hold. I had a dry erase board in my room and it was filled with artists and albums I wanted to buy-Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, REM, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Smashing Pumpkins, Hole, Everclear and later there was Goldfinger and Bad Religion, then Tool, the Deftones, Ani Difranco, Incubus- I could list them forever... I remember taking my well earned paper route money to buy my first stereo for my room, and going to the store as often as my parents would allow to get another album on my list. Going to my room was never a punishment because I would sit in there and listen to music for hours on end... I went to sleep with it on, I woke up with it on...I would sneek my headphones on the bus with me. I created my own world and found bliss within those notes...
I remember opening my first microphone and the big Sony professional headphones for my birthday-I had to have been all of eight maybe- and my dad set up a tape deck and I got a mixer, I would sing and record and there was a freedom of creativity there that I have not matched within myself since... the years went by and my self consciousness over took me and I stopped singing, except for in my car by myself, or ridiculously out of range with a few friends. I started writing a lot, and I got involved in the local music scene as a teenager. It has been amazing to witness other people's creative processes, glistening in the light of creation and collaboration... And then I think about how I stifled my own, I let fear extinguish that inner creative fire. For a time I stifled it all together, I quit listening to new music or taking an interest at all. But recently, in the last year or so, I have begun to re-open that musical file in my brain. I found that inspired feeling again and I want to figure out what to do with it... I think we all wander in the gray areas of life- we transition from one stage to another- and if we are not careful we loose the awareness of what it is that touches us deeply in our soul. The beauty of it is that if we are vigilant, we may wander, but we are never lost. That fire within your soul can be re kindled -like a phoenix rising up from the embers to re-emerge in a different and perhaps more amazing form...
Friday, February 25, 2011
Fucking Fishnets and Cigarettes
So, in school this quarter I am taking two courses- one is about identity. The other is about personality. No shortage of introspection in these classes... I now know my personality type according to Myers Briggs, my Temperament, my dominant Enneagram description and have begun looking at 'my shadow' according to Carl Jung. Whew! And, while I don't consider any of these things to be definitive descriptions of myself... they have opened my eyes to much about who I am... How I interact with the world and how the world sees me...
Carl Jung said that it is not our self that we present to the world, but any of various persona's that we develop for ourselves based on the environment we are in... This got me thinking about my persona's as well as the persona's of people I know. For example-I have two jobs... and at each I have to present a different side of myself... Persona's aren't necessarily being fake; it's more like putting your best face forward in any given situation. So these various shades of oneself wax and wane throughout life... some come out to play more often then others, and some people have similar shades. I and a few of my girl friends have the tough bitch persona that we present much of the time (also referred to as the badass card!), we refrain from showing weakness and vulnerability as much as possible- after all, if no one sees your vulnerabilities how can anyone take advantage of you right?
Tough bitch and I have been through a lot, and she has served me fairly well, she's the part of me who walks around in torn fishnet stockings, wearing too much make-up smoking cigarettes like a freight train and cursing at everything. The older I get the more high maintenance she becomes, and the less attractive she becomes to me. It is tough to let her go though, I am not all that familiar of life without her. Starting this blog has made me a lot more aware of just how much I have depended on tough bitch. I began this blog with a promise to myself- that I would be honest and not censor myself and that no matter what I needed to just let things flow out... In the last three days I cannot tell you how many times I have broken that promise! I sit down to write and think... I can't say that. But I can. and I will.
I think I am going try something new... it scary to even think about, but I think I am going to let tough bitch take a vacation... As Allyson would say, I am going to move my badass card from my front pocket to my back pocket. It is still within reach if I need it, but maybe I can learn how to use it less and my vulnerability card more. No promises- I'm definitely not gunna quit smoking, and fuck is still the most useful utility word in the English language, and let's be honest, fishnets have their uses- in certain places and situations. But I suppose it is worth a try... There is a saying that goes something like- if you want what you have always had, do what you have always done. Well, I want something different so- I guess I could give doing some things differently a shot.
Carl Jung said that it is not our self that we present to the world, but any of various persona's that we develop for ourselves based on the environment we are in... This got me thinking about my persona's as well as the persona's of people I know. For example-I have two jobs... and at each I have to present a different side of myself... Persona's aren't necessarily being fake; it's more like putting your best face forward in any given situation. So these various shades of oneself wax and wane throughout life... some come out to play more often then others, and some people have similar shades. I and a few of my girl friends have the tough bitch persona that we present much of the time (also referred to as the badass card!), we refrain from showing weakness and vulnerability as much as possible- after all, if no one sees your vulnerabilities how can anyone take advantage of you right?
Tough bitch and I have been through a lot, and she has served me fairly well, she's the part of me who walks around in torn fishnet stockings, wearing too much make-up smoking cigarettes like a freight train and cursing at everything. The older I get the more high maintenance she becomes, and the less attractive she becomes to me. It is tough to let her go though, I am not all that familiar of life without her. Starting this blog has made me a lot more aware of just how much I have depended on tough bitch. I began this blog with a promise to myself- that I would be honest and not censor myself and that no matter what I needed to just let things flow out... In the last three days I cannot tell you how many times I have broken that promise! I sit down to write and think... I can't say that. But I can. and I will.
I think I am going try something new... it scary to even think about, but I think I am going to let tough bitch take a vacation... As Allyson would say, I am going to move my badass card from my front pocket to my back pocket. It is still within reach if I need it, but maybe I can learn how to use it less and my vulnerability card more. No promises- I'm definitely not gunna quit smoking, and fuck is still the most useful utility word in the English language, and let's be honest, fishnets have their uses- in certain places and situations. But I suppose it is worth a try... There is a saying that goes something like- if you want what you have always had, do what you have always done. Well, I want something different so- I guess I could give doing some things differently a shot.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Making My Way
Yesterday was kind of a rough day. It's funny how life works out. I go about my life, making small gains within myself as I go, and then BAM! Something happens to force me to take a look at life from a different angle. I'll say that the last few years have been a real test in who I am... not really who I am in the world, more who I am to myself. I once thought that I had done much work on myself... trying to live every day as my truest, most authentic self. But more and more I am learning that what I once thought was never as true as I held it up to be.
I've lost a considerable amount of people in my life, some who were friends and are no longer, others who were friends and left this world too soon. I know, I know it sounds like I am about to launch into a sad and depressing rant about how awful life is. But I am not. Sure, I mourn the loss of that which once was, but I welcome the open road of life for which I have no map. That something to force me to take a look at my life happened (again) on Monday, and ever since then I cannot get this stuff out of my head. So, if your bored now- maybe quit reading and come back another day!
I believe that there are no coincidences in life, I truly believe deep down in my core that every single thing happens for a reason. The frustrating thing about that philosophy is that I general cannot discern the reason in the present moments of life; so I generally end up feeling frustrated and confused when something happens and I cannot attach a cause to it...maybe we all do that...I don't know. This is especially true when a person dies very young. We writhe around in grief and anger, sadness, guilt and a whole range of emotion- well, I mean that is what I have witnessed in others when this has happened with someone close to me. Unfortunately, this has happened quite a few times in my 29 years- four times last year and there were as many before that. This seems like an abnormally large number to me really... I met some one my age a who as of a year or two back had NEVER been to a funeral... weird.
The first young death that rocked my world was my cousin- he was 23 when he died of hodgkins disease-I was 18. Being an only child, Jay was like a brother to me, and the world had (in my opinion) never seen a finer young man- he was kind and loving, thoughtful and generous. He exemplified living authentically to me and it was nearly impossible to wrap my mind around why he would be taken from this earth so soon. I eventually came to believe that he had finished his journey here on earth and that whatever he had to accomplish in his life was accomplished early. I am not religious by any means, but I can appreciate that he is in a higher place of spiritual bliss now. It may not be a perfect explanation, but, from where I stand and the level of complexity that my mind can compute at this time in my life, it works.
In my early 20's I lost a good number of friends, most to car accidents, drug overdoses and other general symptoms of young excess. Just before I was to graduate with my associate degree (like weeks) someone I had been friends with for years OD'ed. Wendy had been struggling with heroin addiction ever since we graduated high school, and she had made great strides in turning her life around, by all accounts, she was a success story for beating addiction... or so we thought. This was one of the hardest things I have gone through thus far in my life... I say gone through on purpose, because I absolutely did not deal with it. Wendy's mother and I were very close, and I ended up having to tell her that Wendy was gone. From that moment on I did everything I could for everyone else so as not to have to feel what was going on inside me or deal with the situation on a personal level.
It was never a conscious choice...I never said to myself "Hey, this is too hard, let's not deal with it", it just sort of happened. And I think from that moment on- a little piece of me died. I locked it up in box and threw the key away, and because I did that, it has made every subsequent death...either real or metaphorical... impossible to deal with. But now, now that I have been making this big effort to be aware of myself...the good, the bad, the ugly and the true...I am unable to put anymore into that box; and furthermore, the old skeletons I stashed in there are coming out to play.
So, on Monday, the news of another death came. But this time the circumstances are different. The death seems so much more tragic, and although we haven't spoken in a year and a half, it is cutting me to my core. This time there is no one to save or comfort or focus on but myself. This time I cannot play the hero, or healer, or shoulder to cry on. This time there is no one to turn to but me. And I get it now. I am aching for some other alternative, but there is none. Now I must mourn the death of Rachel, and Wendy, and David, and Missy, and Elaine and I could go on but there is no need. Now I must be still and just breathe; this is hurricane of a storm, and I made it that way, so all I can do is go inward and make my way out myself this time. Rest In Peace dear friends, I love you all, my heart aches and tears stream down my face-I will never ever forget the lessons each one of you taught me both in life and death as well.
I've lost a considerable amount of people in my life, some who were friends and are no longer, others who were friends and left this world too soon. I know, I know it sounds like I am about to launch into a sad and depressing rant about how awful life is. But I am not. Sure, I mourn the loss of that which once was, but I welcome the open road of life for which I have no map. That something to force me to take a look at my life happened (again) on Monday, and ever since then I cannot get this stuff out of my head. So, if your bored now- maybe quit reading and come back another day!
I believe that there are no coincidences in life, I truly believe deep down in my core that every single thing happens for a reason. The frustrating thing about that philosophy is that I general cannot discern the reason in the present moments of life; so I generally end up feeling frustrated and confused when something happens and I cannot attach a cause to it...maybe we all do that...I don't know. This is especially true when a person dies very young. We writhe around in grief and anger, sadness, guilt and a whole range of emotion- well, I mean that is what I have witnessed in others when this has happened with someone close to me. Unfortunately, this has happened quite a few times in my 29 years- four times last year and there were as many before that. This seems like an abnormally large number to me really... I met some one my age a who as of a year or two back had NEVER been to a funeral... weird.
The first young death that rocked my world was my cousin- he was 23 when he died of hodgkins disease-I was 18. Being an only child, Jay was like a brother to me, and the world had (in my opinion) never seen a finer young man- he was kind and loving, thoughtful and generous. He exemplified living authentically to me and it was nearly impossible to wrap my mind around why he would be taken from this earth so soon. I eventually came to believe that he had finished his journey here on earth and that whatever he had to accomplish in his life was accomplished early. I am not religious by any means, but I can appreciate that he is in a higher place of spiritual bliss now. It may not be a perfect explanation, but, from where I stand and the level of complexity that my mind can compute at this time in my life, it works.
In my early 20's I lost a good number of friends, most to car accidents, drug overdoses and other general symptoms of young excess. Just before I was to graduate with my associate degree (like weeks) someone I had been friends with for years OD'ed. Wendy had been struggling with heroin addiction ever since we graduated high school, and she had made great strides in turning her life around, by all accounts, she was a success story for beating addiction... or so we thought. This was one of the hardest things I have gone through thus far in my life... I say gone through on purpose, because I absolutely did not deal with it. Wendy's mother and I were very close, and I ended up having to tell her that Wendy was gone. From that moment on I did everything I could for everyone else so as not to have to feel what was going on inside me or deal with the situation on a personal level.
It was never a conscious choice...I never said to myself "Hey, this is too hard, let's not deal with it", it just sort of happened. And I think from that moment on- a little piece of me died. I locked it up in box and threw the key away, and because I did that, it has made every subsequent death...either real or metaphorical... impossible to deal with. But now, now that I have been making this big effort to be aware of myself...the good, the bad, the ugly and the true...I am unable to put anymore into that box; and furthermore, the old skeletons I stashed in there are coming out to play.
So, on Monday, the news of another death came. But this time the circumstances are different. The death seems so much more tragic, and although we haven't spoken in a year and a half, it is cutting me to my core. This time there is no one to save or comfort or focus on but myself. This time I cannot play the hero, or healer, or shoulder to cry on. This time there is no one to turn to but me. And I get it now. I am aching for some other alternative, but there is none. Now I must mourn the death of Rachel, and Wendy, and David, and Missy, and Elaine and I could go on but there is no need. Now I must be still and just breathe; this is hurricane of a storm, and I made it that way, so all I can do is go inward and make my way out myself this time. Rest In Peace dear friends, I love you all, my heart aches and tears stream down my face-I will never ever forget the lessons each one of you taught me both in life and death as well.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Welcome welcome
I guess the welcome is more for myself than anyone else- well, this blog is really more for me than anyone else. I have thought about blogging for a long time...I journal all the time-in a stream of consciousness kind of way... but I always considered blogging to be a bit too self absorbed- Like who gives a shit what I am thinking and further more would want to read it? Then I started following a couple of my friend's blogs and realized that I really enjoyed reading them, I also realized that writing in a space where the only person that will ever read it is me makes it kind of a cop-out...
It just seems as if so much has been happening...shifting...changing in my life that I can do nothing but write it down to get it out of my head. I joke about having an artist trapped inside my body for which I have no medium to express myself...maybe this will help me in that arena.
I like to think that I am a pretty honest person. I like to think that I am fairly honest with myself and others...although I am probably more honest with others than I should be and less honest with myself then I need to be. So, I guess this is my public way of getting honest with myself! This will be a fine (and scary) experiment in practicing what I preach. So, away I sail on this yet another route of my personal journey...
It just seems as if so much has been happening...shifting...changing in my life that I can do nothing but write it down to get it out of my head. I joke about having an artist trapped inside my body for which I have no medium to express myself...maybe this will help me in that arena.
I like to think that I am a pretty honest person. I like to think that I am fairly honest with myself and others...although I am probably more honest with others than I should be and less honest with myself then I need to be. So, I guess this is my public way of getting honest with myself! This will be a fine (and scary) experiment in practicing what I preach. So, away I sail on this yet another route of my personal journey...
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