I'm a bit late on the bandwagon here, but Leanne just emailed me and asked me if I've seen that documentary about child artist Marla Olmstead, called My Kid Could Paint That. No I haven't seen it, but it's started a deluge of interesting thoughts for me. And I was just saying how much I missed art.
OK I will have to get this movie. i did a little bit of looking around -- i've only vaguely heard of her/remember her name...so i looked at her work, watched the trailer for the movie, read a review and another article, etc. i'm very interested. what's to suggest that kids do anything differently than adults? and if abstract art is spontaneous and messy and impulsive and stream of consciousness (along with what canvas and what paint you have available), then what's to say its a sham? Isn't art...isn't the utility of art, the satisfaction from it, derived from looking at it and saying, "that's interesting" or "that's pretty" or you just have some physical reaction? and why would that be bad, if people are willing to pay for it? how bout the guy that does the color block squares? what about him? its a red canvas. awesome. people like it. like i've always said, i'm not a "real" artist, but i do love to paint, when i have time, and i can't say i do much differently than what that little girl does, when i go totally abstract...like the paintings i did for jeff...art is impulsive to me, its a beautiful mess, and that's why i love it. who's to say a 4 year old can't do that? now as far as the exploitation factor, i have to see the movie...
Then a conversation ensues where I had to go find out what that guy's name was who did the color block paintings, so I went and talked to some graphic designers here at work...
so i just talked to some graphic designers here at work and they strongly disagree with me (except for the part that if someone is willing to pay thousands of dollars for a painting, let them). they think that abstract art-- and the intention behind it -- is cool and worthwhile and meaningful because it comes from somewhere, and part of where it comes from is learning the fundamentals and working within the boundaries of traditional skill, getting good at it, and then learning to break or supersede the boundaries, and go abstract. and as for my previous mention of mark rothko, they shot my theory down to ignorance, which i claim. they were saying you have to know WHY he chose the red, and the intention and meaning of what he's trying to convey. well, i don't know those things but i still enjoy it. does that count? you don't have to be an artist to appreciate art. but is there such a thing as proper appreciation? i guess there's education and knowledge. educated appreciation. i guess i'm just the starry eyed girl drooling at all the pretty colors!?
i've just had another thought. remember how disgruntled and pissed off the literati were when italian (and spanish?) opera made its way to england? they were pissed because the general public (assumedly relatively uneducated -- the masses) go to an opera, don't have any idea what's being said in the language they don't understand, and react to these costumes and the show. The SPECTACLE. Remember how the "ancients" --right -- got so mad about the fact that people would cry watching this spectacle that they didn't understand? So I'm relating it to abstract art. Perhaps they would say I am just the starry eyed drooling girl...yikes...
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
cat hair? abundant. my life? nowhere to be found.
Cat hair is everywhere. Easy to find. But everything I wanted to do on nearly-28 and counting, well, its in the wings. Alan Watts would have a lot to say about this. "Trying to find yourself is the biggest ego trip going." [ok, its trying to lose yourself, but whatev.] Watts would say, "Nowhere is a word comprised of two other words, which get at the truth of the situation at hand: now, here your life is to be found." ok alan. point taken.
i'm distressed because i had my review today and got no money. i talked to jeff about it, let the tiger out of the cage, when i got home. (that's a non-sexual reference.) my issue is, it feels like i was hired to be stagnant. and that's the stupidest thing i can imagine. it's like theater of the absurd. "ok haley, we're gonna hire you to do one thing, change your job a whole lot, give you a whole lot more responsibility including managing people -- and we're not going to recognize you for this -- and then after all those changes are done, and you're good and adjusted, well then, stay the same. don't improve, don't strive for more, don't look ahead -- that's very dangerous. keep two feet on the floor and your head down, and always wear a dress." [remember that old joke from golden girls where sofia tells blanche to keep both her feet on the floor and blanche says that's cool, cuz she's wearing a dress.]
no money, no room for advancement, no new projects, no change, no advice for improvement on a personal or project level. no change in responsibility, no recognition for a job well done, and most importantly, no goal to aim my stern at, and buoys to pass through. that metaphor is lame, i know, but you'd think a job would want you to grow, ENCOURAGE you to grow. to give more to the company. "Wow, what a great asset we have here. Let's see what else she can do, and if she's really good, let's pay her to stay around for a long time."
I called my mom in the afternoon. I took a break and walked around the block. I realized I'd been starting at my computer screen and sitting on my ass for like 6.5 hrs straight and I should probably experience the sun today. So out into the elements, mom was shopping, and we ended up having a pretty good 15-min chat. we were talking about the nature of um, company cohesion, group morale and its waning importance, positive attitutude and its waning importance, and how the art/act of negotiation is disappearing rapidly. that negotiation pretty much isn't happening anymore. people are just lucky to have a job. or, they have a job, and want to keep it or want to move on, and that the work and the people and praise in front of others are more liekly to keep someone at a job than money. is this the current economy or is this a semi-permanent shift, we don't know. but stay tuned, we're certain to have the world figured out in about the next 2 weeks.
gosh, things don't really make sense. what a sham this whole "trying to plan for life" thing is.
remember reading shel silverstein when you were a kid? i do. i had to memorize that poem "ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too." do you think he was stoned when he wrote that? yah, i do. that poem didn't make sense at all. perhaps that's adults' interpretation of what's "fun" for a kid -- nonsense that rhymes and sounds funny. whatever, i do remember it fondly, but don't have any real memories associated with it.
its safe to say this schpiel is not only inspired by my lame review, but also this cool issue of INTERVIEW magazine I just thumbed through. Turns out, Andy Warhol founded/started/owned INTERVIEW, and apparently started it as "a tribute to ROLLING STONE." Cool. I get ROLLING STONE, too. My favorite thing in there is the "Threat Assessment." Anyway, I never knew much about Andy Warhol, and I even lived in Pittsburgh for a whole year. (he attended Carnegie Mellon there.) So this issue was dedicated or was a tribute to Warhol, and I learned so much about him by seeing his scary photos and reading quotes from his friends and circle of peers. He seemed to have a really captivating take on life, and held some beliefs I just am incapable of agreeing with (One friend said one thing people might not know about Warhol was that he didn't really have any opinions. Is that possibly true? How can that be true?) Regardless, he seemed open to what everyone had to say, including fierce critics (he told them they were right when they said he was a no-talent ass clown). He gave anyone a chance. He said art movements and the art world was dead, and that commercialism was where it was at. At INTERVIEW, he used to introduce people the way they wanted to be introduced; rather, with the title they wished they had. So he'd say, "You, average employee #28 named Shera Johnson, (in reality jsut an average employee), she is the owner of INTERVIEW." Awesome. Imagine how just that small gesture could change employee's attitudes, even though everyone knows its not true. It means you know your employees, one. Two, it means you're not threatened. I would love the chance to do this and see everyone smile from ear to ear.
The whole Andy Warhol introduction served to remind me of the creative group I used to have around, where you get to have any opinion you want and like whatever you want, and you don't have to have a reason for it. An idea was an idea, and people would entertain it, and some would even tell you it was shallow or not worthwhile, and others would think it was brilliant, and people would experiment with the way they viewed the world and their role in their surroundings. people in that environment believed that what they wrote mattered. but on a really, really basic level. not even on a level of conscious thought. The act [of writing] precedes the thought [that its meaningful, or it matters]. You write because you have something to say, and if nothing else, its in your head and it needs out and meaningfulness doesn't really factor into it, except in the a priori way of knowing that "I" is important to that subject. Did that make sense?
Perhaps irrelevant, but I am reminded of two quotes I like very much:
1. "At what point did people stop asking questions?"
2. "We are not here to answer questions. Just say you don't know."
And to everyone else, goodnight.
i'm distressed because i had my review today and got no money. i talked to jeff about it, let the tiger out of the cage, when i got home. (that's a non-sexual reference.) my issue is, it feels like i was hired to be stagnant. and that's the stupidest thing i can imagine. it's like theater of the absurd. "ok haley, we're gonna hire you to do one thing, change your job a whole lot, give you a whole lot more responsibility including managing people -- and we're not going to recognize you for this -- and then after all those changes are done, and you're good and adjusted, well then, stay the same. don't improve, don't strive for more, don't look ahead -- that's very dangerous. keep two feet on the floor and your head down, and always wear a dress." [remember that old joke from golden girls where sofia tells blanche to keep both her feet on the floor and blanche says that's cool, cuz she's wearing a dress.]
no money, no room for advancement, no new projects, no change, no advice for improvement on a personal or project level. no change in responsibility, no recognition for a job well done, and most importantly, no goal to aim my stern at, and buoys to pass through. that metaphor is lame, i know, but you'd think a job would want you to grow, ENCOURAGE you to grow. to give more to the company. "Wow, what a great asset we have here. Let's see what else she can do, and if she's really good, let's pay her to stay around for a long time."
I called my mom in the afternoon. I took a break and walked around the block. I realized I'd been starting at my computer screen and sitting on my ass for like 6.5 hrs straight and I should probably experience the sun today. So out into the elements, mom was shopping, and we ended up having a pretty good 15-min chat. we were talking about the nature of um, company cohesion, group morale and its waning importance, positive attitutude and its waning importance, and how the art/act of negotiation is disappearing rapidly. that negotiation pretty much isn't happening anymore. people are just lucky to have a job. or, they have a job, and want to keep it or want to move on, and that the work and the people and praise in front of others are more liekly to keep someone at a job than money. is this the current economy or is this a semi-permanent shift, we don't know. but stay tuned, we're certain to have the world figured out in about the next 2 weeks.
gosh, things don't really make sense. what a sham this whole "trying to plan for life" thing is.
remember reading shel silverstein when you were a kid? i do. i had to memorize that poem "ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too." do you think he was stoned when he wrote that? yah, i do. that poem didn't make sense at all. perhaps that's adults' interpretation of what's "fun" for a kid -- nonsense that rhymes and sounds funny. whatever, i do remember it fondly, but don't have any real memories associated with it.
its safe to say this schpiel is not only inspired by my lame review, but also this cool issue of INTERVIEW magazine I just thumbed through. Turns out, Andy Warhol founded/started/owned INTERVIEW, and apparently started it as "a tribute to ROLLING STONE." Cool. I get ROLLING STONE, too. My favorite thing in there is the "Threat Assessment." Anyway, I never knew much about Andy Warhol, and I even lived in Pittsburgh for a whole year. (he attended Carnegie Mellon there.) So this issue was dedicated or was a tribute to Warhol, and I learned so much about him by seeing his scary photos and reading quotes from his friends and circle of peers. He seemed to have a really captivating take on life, and held some beliefs I just am incapable of agreeing with (One friend said one thing people might not know about Warhol was that he didn't really have any opinions. Is that possibly true? How can that be true?) Regardless, he seemed open to what everyone had to say, including fierce critics (he told them they were right when they said he was a no-talent ass clown). He gave anyone a chance. He said art movements and the art world was dead, and that commercialism was where it was at. At INTERVIEW, he used to introduce people the way they wanted to be introduced; rather, with the title they wished they had. So he'd say, "You, average employee #28 named Shera Johnson, (in reality jsut an average employee), she is the owner of INTERVIEW." Awesome. Imagine how just that small gesture could change employee's attitudes, even though everyone knows its not true. It means you know your employees, one. Two, it means you're not threatened. I would love the chance to do this and see everyone smile from ear to ear.
The whole Andy Warhol introduction served to remind me of the creative group I used to have around, where you get to have any opinion you want and like whatever you want, and you don't have to have a reason for it. An idea was an idea, and people would entertain it, and some would even tell you it was shallow or not worthwhile, and others would think it was brilliant, and people would experiment with the way they viewed the world and their role in their surroundings. people in that environment believed that what they wrote mattered. but on a really, really basic level. not even on a level of conscious thought. The act [of writing] precedes the thought [that its meaningful, or it matters]. You write because you have something to say, and if nothing else, its in your head and it needs out and meaningfulness doesn't really factor into it, except in the a priori way of knowing that "I" is important to that subject. Did that make sense?
Perhaps irrelevant, but I am reminded of two quotes I like very much:
1. "At what point did people stop asking questions?"
2. "We are not here to answer questions. Just say you don't know."
And to everyone else, goodnight.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
3 weeks to life - my time at a chico women's shelter
College is a formative time for most people, where we’re encouraged to dream and believe that the world lies at our fingertips, if only we are willing to reach out and grab it. One of the dreams I cultivated during the two years I worked for Cal Poly Women’s Programs and ran the first and only feminist club on campus (yes, first) was that I wanted to develop education programs targeted at young, rural, female youth across the country. Ultimately, I wanted to build women’s shelters and centers as resource centers and community gathering spots from the ground up; develop the concept, implement it and duplicate it across the country. The idea was that these centers could provide rural young women the vision of possibility and choice in low-income areas where sex education and education in general may not have been much of a priority for young women and those raising them. My first step in that direction was to work at a women’s shelter.
I got a job with an organization called Catalyst Domestic Violence Services in Chico as the night supervisor of a local women’s shelter. I worked at the shelter from 4:30 pm to 2:30 am Monday through Friday, and my tenure lasted three weeks. I realized a myriad of incredible things about the nature of abuse, of the human heart, of my own spirit and my own tolerance in those weeks. I realized that I was entering into the lifecycle of a problem at the end, and that I felt inert in the wake of abuse. I was 22 years old trying to provide leadership and mentorship to drug addicted, abused women who were unable to hold a job or maintain custody of their children. The 12 women in the house fought constantly. No one did their chores—the small amount of responsibility they held. We would stand outside together and smoke cigarettes and I would listen to them complain about each other, and listen to their tragic stories. All the while, trying to problem-solve the lives of people who seemed beyond help; who seemed broken.
I wielded no governance over these ladies. One night, sitting at the dinner table and observing the swirling chaos of the house in the throes of dinner preparation, I refused to tolerate what I was witnessing. My mind turned against the current scene and forced my voice. I told everyone to shut up, yelling at the top of my lungs. They stopped, because I’d never behaved like that. I made everyone leave their tasks, their brooms, spoons and rice and come sit at the table together. I told them they were ridiculous. “Look at yourselves,” I urged. “All you can do is fight and yell and abuse each other, and you don’t see that each of you have endured the same struggles. You don’t see that Shaon and Cleo have lived the same lives, have ended up here for the same reasons. You have an opportunity to connect with each other, share stories, try to learn from the other women here and listen. You have a chance to try to heal. You could be friends, if you’d only support each other.” I told them I didn’t care if they did their chores or not. I didn’t sweep my kitchen floor every night, so I thought it was absurd they would have to. What I did do every day was act like a civilized person and try to respect the people around me.
I don’t know why they listened to me or continued to sit at the table and pay attention to what I was saying, but they did. I worked there for one more week. My last night in the house, those 12 women threw me a surprise going away party. They somehow knew that I was a vegetarian and made veggie egg rolls from scratch, and made chocolate covered strawberries. They used their food stamps to buy the food. They showered me with gifts, from stuffed animals to dried flowers and cards. These women had nothing, and gave up their own possessions for me, to see me off.
I did make an impact. One person, at least temporarily, made a difference. i don't know what I made those women see and i don't know why their compassion bloomed in the winter of that house. but i witnessed it, and it changed me.
again, for the people who say "it can't be done." i've been one of those people.
I guess we just have to decide what it is we want to do.
I got a job with an organization called Catalyst Domestic Violence Services in Chico as the night supervisor of a local women’s shelter. I worked at the shelter from 4:30 pm to 2:30 am Monday through Friday, and my tenure lasted three weeks. I realized a myriad of incredible things about the nature of abuse, of the human heart, of my own spirit and my own tolerance in those weeks. I realized that I was entering into the lifecycle of a problem at the end, and that I felt inert in the wake of abuse. I was 22 years old trying to provide leadership and mentorship to drug addicted, abused women who were unable to hold a job or maintain custody of their children. The 12 women in the house fought constantly. No one did their chores—the small amount of responsibility they held. We would stand outside together and smoke cigarettes and I would listen to them complain about each other, and listen to their tragic stories. All the while, trying to problem-solve the lives of people who seemed beyond help; who seemed broken.
I wielded no governance over these ladies. One night, sitting at the dinner table and observing the swirling chaos of the house in the throes of dinner preparation, I refused to tolerate what I was witnessing. My mind turned against the current scene and forced my voice. I told everyone to shut up, yelling at the top of my lungs. They stopped, because I’d never behaved like that. I made everyone leave their tasks, their brooms, spoons and rice and come sit at the table together. I told them they were ridiculous. “Look at yourselves,” I urged. “All you can do is fight and yell and abuse each other, and you don’t see that each of you have endured the same struggles. You don’t see that Shaon and Cleo have lived the same lives, have ended up here for the same reasons. You have an opportunity to connect with each other, share stories, try to learn from the other women here and listen. You have a chance to try to heal. You could be friends, if you’d only support each other.” I told them I didn’t care if they did their chores or not. I didn’t sweep my kitchen floor every night, so I thought it was absurd they would have to. What I did do every day was act like a civilized person and try to respect the people around me.
I don’t know why they listened to me or continued to sit at the table and pay attention to what I was saying, but they did. I worked there for one more week. My last night in the house, those 12 women threw me a surprise going away party. They somehow knew that I was a vegetarian and made veggie egg rolls from scratch, and made chocolate covered strawberries. They used their food stamps to buy the food. They showered me with gifts, from stuffed animals to dried flowers and cards. These women had nothing, and gave up their own possessions for me, to see me off.
I did make an impact. One person, at least temporarily, made a difference. i don't know what I made those women see and i don't know why their compassion bloomed in the winter of that house. but i witnessed it, and it changed me.
again, for the people who say "it can't be done." i've been one of those people.
I guess we just have to decide what it is we want to do.
Friday, February 1, 2008
RANT: feminist / weddings
A note on feminist weddings
I am beginning to think they are possible. After reading some very encouraging articles and blogs today, and realizing that I could look at commitment ceremonies to help guide me (potentially).
I resent that because i don't want a girly, poofy dress wedding and i think diamonds are an extremely effective marketing scheme that i don't fall into, that i'm somehow less of a woman, or that i "must just not want to get married." or be married. my mom actually said to me on the phone last night, after an hour of struggling to explain WHY the importance of flowers is ridiculous to me (consumerism, hello), that i better think long and hard if this is what i really want to do, because i just seem so angry. "it doesn't seem like you really want to be married or that you want to do this, at all, so you better think if this is right for you."
i appreciate the "tough questions." i really do. i forgot that my family has some innate block to feminist ideas/ideals. lovely jefferson said, "it makes me want to say f--- it, let's just go somewhere and get married because i don't think you should have to deal with this." that's why i love the guy.
it's not even that the traditions are humiliating, its just that they're forced. it's like, "oh, you're getting married, please step into this box." um, no thanks. i want to be married, but the wedding industry is enough to make me gag. the creation of false necessities for profit. the encouragement of making women feel inadequate. that's a big part of it. what you currently have isn't good enough. you have to do better and be better than what you are. this is a public display as a prize and a public display of your greatness as a couple.
you know, i had a friend -- a close friend -- who did the same thing. She asked, "Why even get married if it makes you so angry?" The apt question is, "why does it make you so angry?" that is complicated and shaded by my trust issues and my own parents' divorce, but is largely influenced by everyone else's expectations. "you're not taking his name? oh. why not?" my response, often aimed at men: "do you want to change your last name? me neither. you never thought about it? me neither. you wouldn't do it? me neither."
it makes me angry because people automatically think because i love this man and want to spend my life with him, that now i am going to work and fret over stupid little details. i will do what i can to plan an event, but because the wedding industry says i need to dance and have a dj, it doesn't make the idea more attractive to me. what's some of my favorite times, or my favorite scene? I think of sitting on the back porch of Streets of London in summer in early evening, when its still light but not so blistering hot. Pitcher of beer, my guy, some friends, just chilling, talking, drinking, smoking cigarettes, shooting the shit. Casual. Laid back. Real. Who doesn't want to go chill with a pitcher at Streets? That's what I want, but somehow it's not really acceptable. Or/and, i don't know how to get it. (Plus, the food at Streets isn't really the good for a vegetarian. :) )
I'm really surprised I haven't written about this sooner. I think I will have many more feminist rants on weddings to come. Like 8 more months' worth.
Ah, an outlet. It's nice to talk and not have anyone talk back, asking me to justify my strangely feminist and counter-culture ideas. (it's like by being counter-culture, i'm subversive. somehow, a feminist bride is a threat to all the carefully placed cards in the house [of cards]. you know what i'm saying.)
I am beginning to think they are possible. After reading some very encouraging articles and blogs today, and realizing that I could look at commitment ceremonies to help guide me (potentially).
I resent that because i don't want a girly, poofy dress wedding and i think diamonds are an extremely effective marketing scheme that i don't fall into, that i'm somehow less of a woman, or that i "must just not want to get married." or be married. my mom actually said to me on the phone last night, after an hour of struggling to explain WHY the importance of flowers is ridiculous to me (consumerism, hello), that i better think long and hard if this is what i really want to do, because i just seem so angry. "it doesn't seem like you really want to be married or that you want to do this, at all, so you better think if this is right for you."
i appreciate the "tough questions." i really do. i forgot that my family has some innate block to feminist ideas/ideals. lovely jefferson said, "it makes me want to say f--- it, let's just go somewhere and get married because i don't think you should have to deal with this." that's why i love the guy.
it's not even that the traditions are humiliating, its just that they're forced. it's like, "oh, you're getting married, please step into this box." um, no thanks. i want to be married, but the wedding industry is enough to make me gag. the creation of false necessities for profit. the encouragement of making women feel inadequate. that's a big part of it. what you currently have isn't good enough. you have to do better and be better than what you are. this is a public display as a prize and a public display of your greatness as a couple.
you know, i had a friend -- a close friend -- who did the same thing. She asked, "Why even get married if it makes you so angry?" The apt question is, "why does it make you so angry?" that is complicated and shaded by my trust issues and my own parents' divorce, but is largely influenced by everyone else's expectations. "you're not taking his name? oh. why not?" my response, often aimed at men: "do you want to change your last name? me neither. you never thought about it? me neither. you wouldn't do it? me neither."
it makes me angry because people automatically think because i love this man and want to spend my life with him, that now i am going to work and fret over stupid little details. i will do what i can to plan an event, but because the wedding industry says i need to dance and have a dj, it doesn't make the idea more attractive to me. what's some of my favorite times, or my favorite scene? I think of sitting on the back porch of Streets of London in summer in early evening, when its still light but not so blistering hot. Pitcher of beer, my guy, some friends, just chilling, talking, drinking, smoking cigarettes, shooting the shit. Casual. Laid back. Real. Who doesn't want to go chill with a pitcher at Streets? That's what I want, but somehow it's not really acceptable. Or/and, i don't know how to get it. (Plus, the food at Streets isn't really the good for a vegetarian. :) )
I'm really surprised I haven't written about this sooner. I think I will have many more feminist rants on weddings to come. Like 8 more months' worth.
Ah, an outlet. It's nice to talk and not have anyone talk back, asking me to justify my strangely feminist and counter-culture ideas. (it's like by being counter-culture, i'm subversive. somehow, a feminist bride is a threat to all the carefully placed cards in the house [of cards]. you know what i'm saying.)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Driving home last night, I had a deluge of thoughts about being late-20s and trying to prep for the rest of my life. These included my parents getting old, both my parents being out of work, the strangeness of permanence of a place (driving on old roads I learned to drive on -- they're still there, even though I haven't been for years, it seems) --
My sister who wants to move back to where we were raised
The roads that I've driven in my youth and returned to in adulthood, and how the same concept applies to all the places that i've been -- that they haven't changed but that i have, and that you return to a place a different person, facing the things you once faced when you were so much less you (or a less dense culmination of time-you). the same is true for pittsburgh, london, san luis obispo, tomball. things change, but the roads...
this got me thinking about that old taoist idea that you can travel any distance sitting at home. that its not the place that a person goes, whether to escape or create a new life or perspective, but how they travel in their minds that bring wisdom.
i was feeling strange about being back in folsom after my strange life has led me other places. that i tried to change my "fate" so to speak (or should I call it casual habit, as so many people return to the area they were raised to live out their adult lives. Or god forbid, never leave in the first place --) but ended up back in the area anyway. driving on that same pavement.
Verse 26, from the Tao te Ching (always for Leanne)
The heavy is the root of the light.
The unmoved is the source of all movement.
Thus the Master travels all day
without leaving home.
However splendid the views,
she stays serenely in herself.
Why should the lord of the country
flit about like a fool?
If you let yourself be blown to and fro,
you lose touch with your root.
If you let restlessness move you,
you lose touch with who you are.
And I don't feel I'm losing touch with who I am, but that I envisioned so much more than this. for myself. that life has become so average with tv watching hours and coffee and work and computers and paying the bills. i am at the most stable point in my life i've ever been, and i feel unchallenged. i am not using my brain. i am not the old haley i used to be. or i AM that old haley, but i have more expectations of the real world -- i understand what to reasonably expect from the real world as well -- and i am bored. i am not "there," wherever there is. of course, who knows if I ever would be "there." Maybe only in hindsight.
i know the proportion of my exerted effort, when measured against my current station in life, align exactly. i know that if i want to feel stimulated mentally that i have to go get that. that i have to exert my own effort. it's not like school, where you go sit in a forum where mental stimulation is provided for you, if only you engage your brain. "turn on." there's not that stimulus around for me now. i did just subscribe to two feminist magazines, and bought a buddhist magazine. these things are good. clearly, i miss these things, so deeply ingrained in the root of the way i see the world. but buried under the daily-lifeness to the extent that i can't readily pull them up and articulate a formed thought on the subject -- or a tangentially relevant thought on another subject -- at all. so this is the current effort i will extend.
i know this also has to do with my master's program. [application, i should clarify]. i was talking with friends last night about that old chestnut, where does passion fit into your life. one of them, like konstantin's dad and like sari, thinks work is work and passion belongs in your personal life, as not to be corrupted by the interests of time, advancement, money, ambition, contracts, etc. i understand that, i really do. it's kind of like how i write for a magazine, and edit and do things with words, but the process is so inert and so corrupted that it really doesn't have anything to do with my passion for creative writing and english and literature. that's because those things that i really am passionate about involve thought, and my work does not. my other friend, however, and i were on the same page. we both want to work the dream. weave the passion by day, and have free time to chill or do nothing or what we choose. there's so much time spent idle at work -- 8+ hours a day -- how productive would we be if we were working on something we believed in? very. i know this from my past experience. that's what i want. that's all i ever wanted since i graduated from college and left the women's center. i so felt that my time there wasn't done, and that i was pushed out of my seat. dethroned/usurped. it was a coup of the nepotists. and that didn't work out, now did it. so ironic maya went to pitt, too.
and now pat is writing me a letter of rec. that's good.
is life always a struggle? i look at someone like jeff, who has his frustrations which are daily and far-reaching and broad, all of those, but he takes life so much easier. is it age? is it maturity? is it financial stability -- knowing everything will be ok? there is always that but i don't think its entirely relevant here. maybe he did all his worrying in his 20s and how he's on a path that he likes, and so he's ok. i've been on so many paths i liked for a while. the liking part always fades. then i have to pursue something new. what i try to tell myself lately is that people like barack obama and hilary clinton didn't get into a job and stay there. they weren't satisfied with some status quo position at a city magazine. they moved up certain ladders. i don't know their careers, but to get to a point where you're running for president, you have to have jumped around a lot career wise, and location wise. i try to tell myself that my ambition isn't so blind anymore, and that its actually a quest to lead a meaningful life where i have an outlet to give back to my community, however big that community is. that's part of it. i have so much more to give than this.
to be continued...
My sister who wants to move back to where we were raised
The roads that I've driven in my youth and returned to in adulthood, and how the same concept applies to all the places that i've been -- that they haven't changed but that i have, and that you return to a place a different person, facing the things you once faced when you were so much less you (or a less dense culmination of time-you). the same is true for pittsburgh, london, san luis obispo, tomball. things change, but the roads...
this got me thinking about that old taoist idea that you can travel any distance sitting at home. that its not the place that a person goes, whether to escape or create a new life or perspective, but how they travel in their minds that bring wisdom.
i was feeling strange about being back in folsom after my strange life has led me other places. that i tried to change my "fate" so to speak (or should I call it casual habit, as so many people return to the area they were raised to live out their adult lives. Or god forbid, never leave in the first place --) but ended up back in the area anyway. driving on that same pavement.
Verse 26, from the Tao te Ching (always for Leanne)
The heavy is the root of the light.
The unmoved is the source of all movement.
Thus the Master travels all day
without leaving home.
However splendid the views,
she stays serenely in herself.
Why should the lord of the country
flit about like a fool?
If you let yourself be blown to and fro,
you lose touch with your root.
If you let restlessness move you,
you lose touch with who you are.
And I don't feel I'm losing touch with who I am, but that I envisioned so much more than this. for myself. that life has become so average with tv watching hours and coffee and work and computers and paying the bills. i am at the most stable point in my life i've ever been, and i feel unchallenged. i am not using my brain. i am not the old haley i used to be. or i AM that old haley, but i have more expectations of the real world -- i understand what to reasonably expect from the real world as well -- and i am bored. i am not "there," wherever there is. of course, who knows if I ever would be "there." Maybe only in hindsight.
i know the proportion of my exerted effort, when measured against my current station in life, align exactly. i know that if i want to feel stimulated mentally that i have to go get that. that i have to exert my own effort. it's not like school, where you go sit in a forum where mental stimulation is provided for you, if only you engage your brain. "turn on." there's not that stimulus around for me now. i did just subscribe to two feminist magazines, and bought a buddhist magazine. these things are good. clearly, i miss these things, so deeply ingrained in the root of the way i see the world. but buried under the daily-lifeness to the extent that i can't readily pull them up and articulate a formed thought on the subject -- or a tangentially relevant thought on another subject -- at all. so this is the current effort i will extend.
i know this also has to do with my master's program. [application, i should clarify]. i was talking with friends last night about that old chestnut, where does passion fit into your life. one of them, like konstantin's dad and like sari, thinks work is work and passion belongs in your personal life, as not to be corrupted by the interests of time, advancement, money, ambition, contracts, etc. i understand that, i really do. it's kind of like how i write for a magazine, and edit and do things with words, but the process is so inert and so corrupted that it really doesn't have anything to do with my passion for creative writing and english and literature. that's because those things that i really am passionate about involve thought, and my work does not. my other friend, however, and i were on the same page. we both want to work the dream. weave the passion by day, and have free time to chill or do nothing or what we choose. there's so much time spent idle at work -- 8+ hours a day -- how productive would we be if we were working on something we believed in? very. i know this from my past experience. that's what i want. that's all i ever wanted since i graduated from college and left the women's center. i so felt that my time there wasn't done, and that i was pushed out of my seat. dethroned/usurped. it was a coup of the nepotists. and that didn't work out, now did it. so ironic maya went to pitt, too.
and now pat is writing me a letter of rec. that's good.
is life always a struggle? i look at someone like jeff, who has his frustrations which are daily and far-reaching and broad, all of those, but he takes life so much easier. is it age? is it maturity? is it financial stability -- knowing everything will be ok? there is always that but i don't think its entirely relevant here. maybe he did all his worrying in his 20s and how he's on a path that he likes, and so he's ok. i've been on so many paths i liked for a while. the liking part always fades. then i have to pursue something new. what i try to tell myself lately is that people like barack obama and hilary clinton didn't get into a job and stay there. they weren't satisfied with some status quo position at a city magazine. they moved up certain ladders. i don't know their careers, but to get to a point where you're running for president, you have to have jumped around a lot career wise, and location wise. i try to tell myself that my ambition isn't so blind anymore, and that its actually a quest to lead a meaningful life where i have an outlet to give back to my community, however big that community is. that's part of it. i have so much more to give than this.
to be continued...
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